Once and Future
by Daddyscowgirl94
Summary: When a familiar face threatens Narnia and Camelot, the two great nations will have to work together to keep both their magical and mundane citizens safe from another magical attack.When Arthur is forced to rely on the Deep Magic upon which Narnia was founded, will it make him more open to Merlin's inherent powers? Or will it make the Prince an even more dangerous enemy to sorcery?
1. Chapter 1: Camelot

**A/N: So, this bunny got into my head a while ago, and I've just now managed to type it up. I'm actually really excited about where this is heading. **

**Story starts between Seasons 2 and 3 for Merlin (Morgana is still missing and Uther is still king), and during the Golden Age for Narnia (almost exactly ten years after the Kings and Queens defeat the White Witch). This worked out really well, because everyone is around the same age. **

**Arthur, Peter, and Morgana: 23  
Susan: 22  
Merlin: 21  
Edmund:20  
Lucy: 18  
**

**Pairings undecided. No slash, no incest. Rated T for violence in later chapters and language. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Narnia or Merlin. Narnia belongs to C.S. Lewis. Merlin belongs to BBC.**

**P.S. This chapter is un-Beta'd, so please forgive any mistakes - and please point them out so that I can fix them! If anyone would like to Beta Once and Future, please PM me! Thanks!**

_Once and Future, Chapter One: Camelot  
In which a Myth is introduced, a Knife is found, and a Prince is a prat.  
_

* * *

"_Mer_lin, what are you doing?" The young manservant jumped nearly a foot in the air, almost knocking a full inkwell onto the map he had been reading.

"Nothing," he said automatically, knowing that he looked quite guilty, though he hadn't really done anything wrong. Well, not this time, at least. When his brain caught up with his body, he realized that his actions were purely instinctual - he had been caught in so many compromising positions, where he actually _had_ been doing something he shouldn't have, that he now associated Arthur's unanticipated arrival with panic and spur-of-the-moment cover stories. The epiphany made him blush - was it really as bad as that?  
Remembering that Arthur was waiting for a valid answer, Merlin amended, "Uh, just looking at some maps. I never realized that there were other countries beyond the Eastern Mountains."

"Well, what did you think was there?" the prince asked, coming to stand beside his manservant.

"I dunno, the ocean?" Merlin looked at the map again. "Why haven't I heard of any of these? That one looks enormous!" He pointed to a particularly large area on the map.

"Narnia," Arthur nodded. "It's wild, from the stories. Legend has it the country is ruled by an evil sorceress who keeps the land under a constant blanket of snow. Has been that way for over a century. The Northern region of Camelot used to get freak snowstorms coming through the mountains, even in the middle of summer here. I barely remember them, though. I was only a boy when they stopped coming." Merlin remembered hearing stories that were much the same. Ealdor, too, had been hit with harsh blizzards coming from over the mountains, though to his knowledge they hadn't plagued the border village for at least a decade. He remembered whispered warnings of sorcery - he'd always had his ears open to such rumors - but no one had pointed a finger his way, so he hadn't given the cause of the blizzards much thought. He'd been too concerned with trying to survive.

"So you've never been there?" Merlin asked, suddenly curious about the countries beyond the mountains.

"Of _course_ I have," Arthur exclaimed, "because when I hear about a sorceress who can enchant an _entire country_ for a _hundred_ years, my first instinct is to go _exploring_! What do _you_ think, _Mer_lin?"

"Point taken," the warlock muttered, backing off. Even to him - curious, open-to-magic Merlin - the prospect was a little frightening. He knew he was powerful, but _that_? Arthur had the right idea; keeping his distance seemed to be the preferable option.

"The only country we can even _think_ of contacting on that side of the mountain range is Calormen-" here the prince pointed to a country to the south of Narnia, "but it isn't regular. In order to get there, we have to go through Mercia - it's the only area where the mountains are relatively passable. And Lord Bayard isn't exactly open to discussing trade routes with Camelot." Merlin understood this; the ruler of Mercia still felt slighted from his visit three years before. While it really wasn't Uther's fault - the cup _had_ been poisoned - Bayard certainly didn't see things that way. "Not that we are missing much," Arthur continued, "From what I hear, the people of Calormen are cruel and treacherous." Arthur resumed his inspection of the maps, hardly giving the Eastern countries another thought.

"What about that one?" Merlin asked, pointing once again to a country East of the Mountains. "Archenland?" Arthur shrugged.

"No news comes from there. By now, it might not even exist. This map is almost as old as my father, and not very reliable besides. It seems unlikely that a country that size could retain its independence for long, especially flanked by two countries as big as Narnia and Calormen."

Merlin found it strange that he had never heard of Narnia. From the looks of the map, it wasn't exactly a small place. Even with the mountains, there should have been at least some news. The warlock resolved to ask Gaius about it the next chance he got.

The "next chance" didn't happen until hours later, when Merlin was sitting down to dinner. They were preparing for a journey North to confirm threats of Cenred's troops crossing the border, so Arthur'd had him running all around the castle to get ready. Such missions were always dangerous - especially since Arthur could only take a select few of his knights with him. A scouting party had to be small, or it would defeat the purpose.  
So the thought of enchanted countries had been completely driven form Merlin's mind in favor of more relevant issues - such as clean armor and polished boots. But now the day was winding down, and Merlin finally had time to wonder again.

"Gaius, what do you know about Narnia?" the boy asked, inhaling delicious stew for which Gaius was renowned. The physician in question froze, his own spoon halfway between the bowl and his mouth.

"Why do you ask?"

"Saw a map today in Arthur's chambers," the boy said offhandedly. "Arthur didn't know much, except that it was supposedly ruled by a sorceress powerful enough to cover the entire country in snow for a century." Merlin had expected there to be some falsehood to the claim. He knew how stories and rumors could get embellished over time and distance. Besides, _he_ was the most powerful sorcerer ever born in Albion, and he knew that he didn't have the ability to keep a whole country enchanted for one year, much less a hundred.

"The rumors are true, as far as I know," the old man said, to Merlin's dismay. "And there is evidence."

"Yeah, Arthur said that Camelot used to get snow in the middle of summer," Merlin said around a mouthful of liquid. "Ealdor did, too."

"I don't expect that either of you would remember much of them," Gaius said, "but the storms were an absolute nightmare for the people of Camelot. No one was able to predict their coming. They would appear without any kind of warning, destroy homes and fields, then disappear just as quickly. When Uther - and Cenred and Bayard as well, I think - sent scouts to investigate, they didn't return. Occasionally a horse would appear, rider-less, wondering around the Northern plains, but more often than not they disappeared with the scouts. Eventually, the kings ceased their exploring, unwilling to waste any more lives than necessary."

"Arthur said the country was wild." Gaius nodded.

"According to early accounts, Narnia was primarily inhabited by what we would call creatures of myth. Talking Beasts and tree spirits and even creatures with the bodies of animals, but the heads of men. And that the land was protected by a Great Lion who lived beyond the Eastern Sea. Even before the Winter began, strange tales came from Narnia. And that was _all_ that came from the country. No men were ever reported to come in or out of the Lands of the East." Gaius paused for a moment, as if deciding whether or not he should continue. Eventually, he said, "Merlin, do you remember me telling you that magic is a part of Albion, woven into the very fabric of its existence? Well according to legend, Narnia was - is - a country even more dependent on magic. Apparently, magic there is as natural as gravity." Merlin tried to imagine the place Gaius was describing, but it sounded like a land of fairytales. The young warlock really couldn't picture a land where Winter always reigned and magic was the norm.

"But all you have is legend? There are no confirmations?"

"There are a few stories that make their way from Calormen, oh, every ten years or so, but I don't think they are very reliable. Last I heard - and this was years before you came to Camelot - a few children had come and killed the Sorceress, and were ruling in her place. But that is perhaps the most absurd thing I've ever heard." Merlin agreed, but his curiosity was far from sated. He lay thinking late into the night, and when he finally fell asleep he dreamed of fur coats, an evil Witch, and a very powerful Lion whose breath calmed him and rid him of any other dreams.

The next morning saw a busy Merlin with no time to think of magical lands or living trees. He was actually rushing around Arthur's chambers, looking for the Prince's favorite knife. He thought he had put it in its usual place - on the table beside Arthur's bed, within reach should the sleeping Prince need it - but was dismayed to find it missing.

"_Mer_lin, you do realize that I could have been _attacked_ last night," Arthur was saying, "and that I would have been defenseless."

"Yes, but you _weren't_," Merlin retorted. _Anyway_, he thought,_ I doubt a knife would prove much use against anyone who managed to bypass my wards_. Of course, he couldn't say this out loud, though he dearly wished to. He had long ago decided to put protective spells around the Prince's chambers to keep away any unwanted visitors during the night. So far they had… _relocated_ two would-be assassins and three sulking chambermaids. Merlin wasn't entirely sure where the assassins had ended up (he had made sure that the maids were returned to their homes) but he knew it was some place unpleasant. Arthur's voice brought the warlock out of his reverie.

"But I _could have been_," the Prince insisted. "And my knife wouldn't have been there, and I could've _died_. And it would have been _your_ fault."

"I happen to know that you sleep with a knife under your pillow, and another under the mattress. And your sword stays at the food of your bed. And if you were attacked, you would have used the one under your pillow, which is much longer and a little sturdier."

"How did you know about the one under the mattress?" Arthur asked, shocked.

"I've cleaned every inch of this room more times than I can count. I know all of your little hiding places. I know where you keep the plans for the Citadel, all the treaties you've practiced drawing up - and that letter to Lady Vivian you told me you'd destroyed." Arthur paled. Actually, Merlin hadn't been sure about the letter, though he had suspected. He made a mental note to look for _that_ hiding place the next time he was in the room alone. "Aha!" He held up the lost knife triumphantly.

"About time." Arthur snatched the weapon from his grinning servant and all but stomped out of the room. "Merlin, ready my horse. I expect we'll be riding out within the hour. I want to be _ready_ by that time." Merlin stuck out his tongue, rolling his eyes at his master's receding back.

* * *

The small group - consisting of only Arthur, Sir Leon, Sir Geraint, and, of course, Merlin himself - was indeed ready in under an hour, and had set off as soon as possible. It would take roughly three days to get to the border (not far from Ealdor, to Merlin's delight), and another three to get back. Arthur always set aside a full day for the actual scouting period - sometimes longer, but this was an area that the group knew well, so they weren't expecting to take more than that - which meant that they shouldn't be gone for more than a week. It wasn't meant to be very dangerous, though Merlin was now convinced that a freak blizzard would sneak up on them and trap them. Still, the company wasn't overly somber upon their departure. Even Merlin - who considered himself the voice of realism, but whom everyone else considered the pessimist - was looking forward to a relatively chore-free week. Sure, he would have to tend the horses and fetch the firewood, but he wouldn't have to clean Arthur's chambers; he wouldn't have to muck out; and he wouldn't have to carry the Prince's laundry up and down the five flights of stairs between his chambers and the launder. He was almost always excited by the prospect of leaving the bustling city behind for a few days. Of course, there was always the possibility that they would get attacked by a group of bandits, or a Questing Beast, or a rogue sorcerer, but Merlin almost preferred the action to his chores - as long as he was able to use magic, of course, and without getting caught. All in all, Merlin felt that, for a little while at least, he could relax and allow the knights to do their job.

So the warlock was dismayed - though not particularly surprised - when a great thunderstorm came quite suddenly upon the four travelers. They had been looking for a place to set up camp - or to attempt to do so, anyway - when they literally stumbled onto what appeared to be the site of several troops set up right on the border. This would have been quite wonderful, of course, if the troops had belonged to anyone but King Cenred himself. But as such an occurrence would have been far too convenient for the company, Merlin knew that it would have been impossible. So it was quite understandable that the four men would have taken a night out in the rain anytime over a night in this particular camp.

And because the odds were roughly twenty to one, it was also quite understandable that the same four men were now dry, but imprisoned by said troops. Currently, the scouts were waiting to be taken to King Cenred. They might have been let off with a warning, but unfortunately one of the men had recognized Arthur from a previous campaign, and so the soldiers were far too incensed by the fact that they had caught the Prince of Camelot unawares. So here the four sat, bound and surrounded, and with very little hope of escape.

"What are our chances of getting out of here alive?" asked Merlin, who seemed to be the only man who had managed to stay uninjured. Sir Leon had broken at least one rib; Arthur had taken a knife to the calf; and Geraint was nursing a bleeding head and quite possibly a concussion.

"Out of the tent or the camp?" asked Leon.

"Let's start with the tent."

"It actually wouldn't be too hard," said Geraint. "The soldiers are tired, and they are cocky. They've been trying not to fall asleep for about an hour now. As long as we're quiet, the tent shouldn't be a problem."

"And the camp?"

"All of the surrounding forest is probably under surveillance." This time it was Arthur speaking. "We might be able to escape into the mountains, then double back and head to Camelot. If we did that, we'd be able to skirt around Cenred's raiders entirely." It was actually a pretty sound plan - Merlin supposed that tracking anything was bound to be more difficult in the mountains, especially on a stormy night like this one.

"But how will we be sure which way to go?" the warlock asked.

"Don't be ridiculous,_ Mer_lin," Arthur practically whined. "As if _I_ could get lost going to _Camelot_. Let's just work on getting out of the tent alive, shall we?"

Merlin grunted, not completely convinced but knowing that arguing would be futile. "I don't suppose you have that knife on you?" he asked the prince.

"In my boot. Can you reach it?" The four of them were sitting back to back so that they formed a wonky kind of circle, all facing outward. Each man was tied to the man sitting opposite him - Leon to Merlin and Geraint to Arthur. They were all on their knees - which was becoming rather uncomfortable - so that the person Arthur was addressing was the man to his right. Of course, the man to his right was Merlin.

"Can you move your foot back?" the manservant asked. He twisted as far as he could without dragging Sir Leon between himself and Arthur. Leon grunted as strain was placed on his rib, and Merlin muttered a soft apology. Arthur was doing the best he was able, but Merlin was still inches away from reaching the knife.

"Hurry, Merlin," Arthur huffed. "This hurts!" Merlin finally gave up; he reached deep down to that place where his magic was kept, and without uttering any kind of incantation, pulled the knife from the prince's boot. He was glad no one could see his face - he knew his eyes would have given him away.

"Got it!" he said with a sigh. He began sawing away at the ropes which bound Sir Leon's wrists. When the knight was finally free, Merlin passed him the knife and waited patiently while Leon worked on his own bonds. Then Leon passed the knife to Sir Geraint, who cut Arthur free and allowed Arthur to do the same for him. At last, all four men had been relieved of the painfully tight ropes, but kept up the pretense of being bound. They now waited for Arthur's signal. The prince was watching the bottom of the tent, where the guards' feet could be seen walking around the perimeter of their prison.

"Get ready," he muttered, moving into a crouch beside the tent-flap. The others followed suit.

"Now!" All four prisoners rushed out of the tent. Arthur, the only man among them who was armed, went first. The knights were sorely missing their swords - which had been confiscated upon their capture - and Merlin was already thinking of what spells he could use that would be effective but would not give himself away. In the end, the warlock settled for the tricks he normally employed - falling tree branches, flaring torches, men falling. The latter was especially easy, as the rain increased the likelihood of such an event occurring without his help. Between him and Arthur, the men who had been assigned to their tent were taken out quickly enough.

"On me!" Arthur called, dropping into leader-mode. Sirs Leon and Geraint flanked their prince, and Merlin fell into step behind them. They had no idea where their weapons, horses, or provisions were, so they had to abandon all three in favor of finding cover. Doubtless they were all far from pleased by the development, but they couldn't afford to stop and search for their supplies. The rest of the camp had already been alerted to the prisoners' escape - _Thanks, Arthur_, Merlin thought - and were rapidly making their way toward the Prince and his men.

Arthur led them through the maze of tents and fire puts until they reached the foot on the first great massif.

Merlin _hated_ mountains. The few times he and Arthur had been forced to cross a mountain range, trouble had always been waiting for them on the other side. Besides, Merlin was clumsy on a good day. He really didn't need the help of a slippery mountain slope - in the dark - to prove that point. So he was quite loathe to go into this unknown chain of admittedly dangerous mountains when he was almost certain that they would end up lost anyway. And for some reason, Merlin could not stop thinking about the fact that he now knew what lay beyond these particular mountains, and he was not particularly keen on learning firsthand just how cold Narnia's Winter was.

Of course, his worries didn't stop Arthur from racing blindly into the mountains, nor did it stop the two knights from following their prince even more thoughtlessly. Merlin really had no choice but to run in after them.

Merlin wasn't sure how long they had been silently jogging through the strange valleys and hills, but eventually the dawn told him that it had been at least eight hours since their capture. They had been going at a gentle trot, but now the knights' injuries were beginning to take their toll. Leon was having trouble breathing - Merlin, who had broken his share of ribs, knew what kind of pain Leon was in - and Geraint was beginning to look dizzy. Apparently Arthur had cut his leg on something, and was now noticeably limping. Merlin himself had twisted his ankle at some point during the trek - and honestly, he was surprised at how well he was doing, given his history with… well, running. Still, he desperately yearned for a cool stream to dip his foot in. The rain still hadn't let up, which only made everything worse, though lightening had stopped making its way across the sky around the time they'd entered the mountains.

"Arthur, we all need a break," Merlin said. "I need to look at your wounds, and Leon and Geraint. They shouldn't have gone so long without being tended to."

"We're almost out of here," Arthur said, squinting. "See that green patch ahead? It must be the forests surrounding Camelot. I think we can make it; it can't be more than a mile or so."

"A mile is a long way for an injured man," Merlin protested.

"I can keep on," Leon said.

"Me, too," chimed Geraint. "I want to get out of these blasted mountains. I can go on a little longer." Merlin personally shared the sentiment, but Arthur's pallor was making the warlock nervous. Still, the knight knew his limits. They all did. And if they insisted that they could make it out of the treacherous ridge, then Merlin knew that they wouldn't listen to him until they had cleared it. Besides, all four of them were testy at the moment, and Merlin had no desire to be chastised or told to 'shut up.' So when Arthur declared that they would continue, Merlin huffed and sulked after them - though he promised himself that once they were clear of the mountains, he would insist, forcefully if he had to, that his companions allow their wounds to be treated. The warlock was already preparing a sleeping spell should he have to resort to more drastic measures.

It was another half-hour - though it felt like longer - before the company emerged into the forest Arthur had seen. Merlin looked around, expecting to feel that sense of familiarity to which he had grown accustomed when entering one of Camelot's forests. It did not come.

Arthur cursed. Merlin followed his gaze to the now-risen sun, glaring at them from the horizon.

They were facing East.

"Arthur…" Merlin started.

"Shut up, Merlin."

"…we're lost," Sir Leon provided. He was right; they hadn't doubled back as Arthur had planned.

They had gone straight.

They weren't in Essetir, and they certainly weren't in Camelot.

They had crossed the Eastern Mountains.


	2. Chapter 2: Narnia

**This chapter is more of a filler than anything else, and it's also shorter than the last one. Just a few  
housekeeping things that need to be established now before we get into the good stuff.  
And there is very little action for now; it's hard, trying to mesh two worlds together! But there will be,  
I promise.**

**On that note, I am in the process of getting a map ready for uploading. I've got it drawn out, but  
it's not really legible, so I've got some cleaning to do =). Extra points to anyone who has managed to  
follow my descriptions.**

_Once and Future, Chapter Two: Narnia  
In which the Magnificent needs a break, the Gentle loathes books, and the Just gets a surprise.  
_

* * *

"When will Ed and Lucy be back?" The High King didn't even look up as he asked the question. He couldn't afford to - if he looked up, he would see that there was a perfectly nice She-Badger in front of him, and that she was free to stand and roam about the castle, and even go outside if she so desired - and Peter knew that if he saw that, then he would want to stand up, and walk around, and go outside, as well, and that was something he could not do. At least, not until he had resolved the Galman trade dispute.

"Sometime the day after tomorrow," the She-Badger replied with that husky voice characteristic of members of the Weasel family. "Assuming Her Grace doesn't find another 'worthy cause.'" The Badger laughed good-naturedly, coaxing a soft chuckle out of the High King as well. Lucy was known for putting her plans - and, by default, putting everyone_ else's_ plans - on hold for the sake of her 'worthy causes.' And for Lucy, a 'worthy cause' could be anything from a pretty field of flowers to a little girl with a scraped knee to a village plagued by renegade Wolves. Each scenario received equal attention from the youngest Queen of Narnia. And it wasn't really that the Queen lacked the ability to prioritize, which had been a problem for Susan the first year or so, but more like each problem - or opportunity, really - was just as important to Lucy as the next. Lucy would consider a scraped knee just as important to fix as a village under attack, because each life was important - there was no question about it, and that was that.

And Lucy was about the only person in the world who could get away with such a thing. If Peter had been asked, he would have said that Lucy could effectively stop the world turning for just about anything, and he would be glad to make it happen. The High King had often wondered if it were even _possible_ to become angry with Lucy (though Susan had assured him that _it was quite possible_, and that _Peter was just a pushover_).

Actually, this most recent excursion was an excellent example. Edmund had gone off to the Western Mountains to collect more books (Susan had been _livid_), and Lucy had asked if she could _please_ come along because she had been _dying_ to see the Dancing Lawn again, and if _only_ she could go with Edmund she would be positively the _happiest_ Queen in all of Narnia. Peter had no doubt that, at the moment, this would be true, but even if it weren't, he wouldn't have said 'no' to Lucy. Even at eighteen, she had him completely wrapped around her little finger, and Peter imagined that in that respect she would never change.

The High King sighed; it was only _eleven_ in the morning! How was he meant to get these dratted trade agreements authorized if he was _already_ zoning out?

"Perhaps you should take your tea, Sire," the She-Badger suggested. Peter finally gave in and met the kindly housekeeper's eyes. She was watching him intelligently, waiting for a response.

The Badger, whose name was Melina but who was only ever called Mrs. Badger*, was perhaps the closest thing to a mother the siblings had been allowed since their arrival. Mrs. Badger was always the first to notice when one of the Monarchs was coming close to overworking him- or her-self, and she would comment without giving it a second thought. At this moment, Peter could have kissed the matron for her insight. He knew that he wouldn't have been able to justify taking a break on his own account, and Mrs. Badger knew so, as well.

"That sounds lovely," Peter said.

"And ye might want to go ahead down. I'd imagine Queen Susan will be wanting a break, as well. You could stop in and invite her along." Peter nodded, carefully stacking the papers so that they were in proper order, before fairly sprinting toward the solar.

* * *

Susan groaned, staring at the _piles_ of books before her. She _hated_ this! It had been_ ten years_ and they _still_ hadn't managed to sort through the Library at Cair Paravel - even _with_ Edmund spending all his free time in there. And there was really no one Susan trusted with the restoration besides herself and Edmund - and even he was iffy. The task had become no less daunting during the _decade_ that they'd been working at it. Susan had foolishly made it her personal project to recover and catalog all of the knowledge which hadn't been destroyed by the White Witch. As it turned out, Narnians were _ridiculously_ adept at hiding things from the usurper, including these books and scrolls.

Near the beginning of their reign, Lucy had asked Mr. Tumnus why he had so many books when Cair Paravel had none. The Faun had explained that, when the Narnians caught wind of the Witch's impending attack, Queen Swanwhite** requested that her subjects each take as many books as could fit into their homes, and to keep them safe. An indignant Peter had wanted to know why she wasted time on _books_ when she could have been defending Narnia.

"Because," the Faun explained, "Queen Swanwhite knew that she couldn't stop the Witch. She didn't want to waste precious lives on a losing battle - no, don't say it, King Peter. I know what you're thinking, that as long as there is a Narnian who draws breath, there is hope. And _today_, that is true. But you don't understand what it was like then. The Tree of Protection had fallen into the Wilderness - the Narnians had grown complacent. They failed to keep the Tree, as Aslan charged them in the Beginning. And Swanwhite knew that - that's why the Witch was so powerful, you see? Narnia was weak because her people forgot Aslan's command. Instead of fighting, the Queen ordered that the Narnians hide, and that they take Narnia's precious knowledge with them. She knew that someday they Witch would be defeated, and that _when_ that happened, Narnia would have to start over. Swanwhite knew that never again could Narnia be allowed to make the mistakes which led to the Witch's uprising. History _had_ to be preserved so that Narnia's future rulers could learn from it. So she ordered that the entire library be emptied."

After hearing this, Edmund had been nearly ecstatic. He had called for all of the Narnians who had protected Queen Swanwhite's books to bring them back to Cair Paravel.

Many of his subjects complied gladly. At first, all of the siblings were eager to begin the task of renewing some of the culture Narnia had lost. The job had been daunting, yes, but also exciting. They dove into the books, glad to learn about the kingdom which they would now serve.

Their system, though, had proven most ineffective. They soon discovered that it would be ridiculous to try and read _each_ and _every_ book before putting it somewhere logical. It had been Susan's idea to utilize the rows upon rows of shelves at their disposal and create a sort of crude decimal system. The books were sorted by topic, and each section was labeled. There were ten classifications, and the books upon arrival were to be _skimmed_ (here Edmund had received a very pointed look from his older sister) to determine the topic, and placed on the corresponding shelf. Then the book was cataloged. After all of the books had been labeled, they were divided into sub-topics. This was the most difficult and trying task. It required a different kind of patience than what Susan possessed. Unfortunately, since _she_ was the one to suggest the idea, it was _she_ who was primarily responsible for its execution. And of course, her obsessive personality had kicked in and she would only be satisfied once she knew that every book was _exactly_ where it belonged.

Another issue which had nearly caused Susan to give up on the spot was that not _all_ the books had arrived. There were many Narnians who had taken _years_ to get to a point where they could in good conscience give up the books to which they had become attached. _Then_ there were the hundreds of homes which had been abandoned, due to either the death or relocation of their tenants. And since a Narnian was just as likely to live in a burrow or cave as in a house, it was nigh impossible to locate _all_ of the books which were hidden in said dwellings. There was a near-constant flow of incoming tomes and scrolls, and Susan was quite at her wits' end as to how to handle it.

Another invention of Susan's - though the Queen wasn't sure she could call it hers, as it was just another thing which had come from libraries in that Other Place - was a kind of shelf with wheels, which was for books that had yet to be given a place. She had ten such shelves - one for each classification - and had worked them into her organization system quite seamlessly. About every hour, she would rise to stretch her back and rest her eyes, and at this point she would wheel the little shelves over to their corresponding sections in the library, and place the books on one row of shelves which was set aside specifically for books which needed to be sub-divided. She would then purposefully walk away from the section - otherwise, she would feel the annoying need to organize these books further, as well, and she knew that if she started on that, she would never get around to the dozens of piles of books still waiting for her attention.

It was during one such break that a page tentatively knocked on the doors, sending a muted _thump_ through the room.

"Back here," Susan called, poking her head around to see her guest.

"If it please your Majesty, High King Peter has requested your company for afternoon tea."

Susan nearly sighed aloud. At that moment, surrounded by the latest shipment of Narnian treasure, Susan had never seen a more welcome messenger. She said noting, but smiled sweetly, gave the boy three golden Lions^, and all but skipped from the enormous library.

_Thank the Lion for hungry brothers,_ she thought.

* * *

Edmund leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his hands. It felt good to be back on the beaten path, where the mud wasn't treacherous for the wagon's wheels. The sun was shining merrily and he was on his way back to Cair Paravel with a cartload of books - real treasures, too, by the looks of them. He had seen a few law books, at least one tome full of magic theory, and - the crown jewel: a scroll with at least a six-inch diameter and the Narnian seal keeping it closed. It was an official document, likely drawn up by a royal. Perhaps it was a treaty, or a written account of proceedings. The Just King hoped it was the latter. Narnian history was far more interesting than the history of - that Other Place, from before he came to Narnia. Narnian history was a thing brought to life. It was either told by written, first-hand accounts or it was relayed by word of mouth - great-grandmothers who whispered stories around the fire during the long winter nights.  
Of course, he thought, Susan will be beside herself with fury... This load had been twice the size of the last one he'd brought, and she still hadn't finished sorting through it. Apparently, a group of Narnians had come together to put all of their books in one location - a series of hidden caves underneath the mountain range - and then forgotten all about them, so that they were still there when a young Bear mother had stumbled across them years and years later.  
Edmund had been sure that the frazzled She-Bear was exaggerating. She'd said that there were over a hundred books piled into this cave. Edmund hadn't really expected the number to be so high, but when he and the Dwarf Duffle (who had only agreed to go because he owed Edmund a favor) arrived, they counted one hundred and eighty-one tomes and scrolls.  
Lucy had come along, so that she could stop at the Dancing Lawn and visit with a Dwarf family she had befriended. Without her, Edmund would have reached the den in a little over a day - but Lucy often caused a trip to take much longer than was ever planned (she stopped frequently to check on people as she met them. Once, she put her whole company three days behind schedule, much to Susan's chagrin), Edmund and Duffle had been obliged to stay overnight with the Dancing Lawn Black Dwarfs. Neither could wait to get away; Edmund was too lanky to be anywhere near comfortable in a tiny Dwarf home and Duffle, who was a Red Dwarf, tired quickly of his hosts' sullen attitudes. Between the delay and the rain, Edmund and Duffle weren't able make it to the cave until the next night. Rather than attempt a journey in the dark, the two had decided to hunker down in the cave, and head out at first light.  
Now they were on the road, meandering at a relatively relaxed pace. Duffle was driving, so Edmund stretched and laced his hands behind his head. They weren't pushing the horse anywhere near his endurance level, reluctant to burden him too much on the muddy road still slick from the rain.  
The sun had been up for about two hours when the skin on the back of Edmund's neck began to prickle. He immediately sat up, alert for anything that would cause alarm. Duffle, attuned to is King's nerves, halted the horse with a gentle word and looked around.  
"I know you're there," Edmund called. "Show yourselves. As long as you mean no harm to Narnia, you have nothing to fear from me."

* * *

**A/N: *Mrs. Badger is not a replacement or bastardization of Mrs. Beaver. There won't be an opportunity to explain this in the text, but Mrs. Beaver still lives with Mr. Beaver at their dam. In relation to the Pevensies, she's more the sweet old grandmother who always has good food ready for you when you visit, even if you come over unannounced. Mrs. Badger is the head of the household at Cair Paravel, and she's more like the older mother who chastises her fully-grown children for overworking themselves. Does that make sense? **

****C.S. Lewis didn't make it clear who was the last ruler before Jadis, but one of the only other monarchs he does mention is Swanwhite; I'm going on that in Susan's little story.**

**_Lions_**** are the main form of Narnian currency, according to the ****_Dawn Treader._**

**I've always been curious about Cair Paravel. A lot of the questions I've had about Narnia's Capitol will be answered in this fic, so if ****_you_**** have any questions about it, ask and I'll see what I can come up with! I've got a few that I've already answered for myself, the ****_book_**** thing being one of them. **

**Okay, so the Author's Notes may have been longer than the actual chapter, but there you have it. **

**P.S. I'm not sure how often or how predictable my updates will be, so don't get too used to the whole "two chapters in one week" thing. **


	3. Chapter 3: Out of the Frying Pan

**Happy New Year!**

**I'm going to try to keep a consistent schedule for updating - gonna try to get something up at least once a week, and though I'm going to try to keep it to Sundays, I may not be able to post that regularly. If I start falling behind, get onto me!**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed or followed or favorited Once and Future! It makes my day when I see the n otification email =D**

**And a special thanks to my Beta, CaraLee934.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own BBC's Merlin or C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia**

Once and Future Chapter Three: Out of the Frying Pan

_In which Merlin is a klutz and Edmund is a Good Samaritan._

* * *

As soon as the rain let up, the group moved forward, searching for a safe place to camp for the day. Merlin was slightly less on-edge; now that the knights were focusing on their injuries, he found it easier to relax. But only slightly - they were still in completely unfamiliar territory, and there was no guarantee that whoever - or _whatever_ - occupied this land would be friendly.

Besides, Merlin still wanted to examine all the knights - especially Arthur. There was no way the Prince was anywhere _near_ ready for a trek through the woods, not with the amount of blood he'd lost. Merlin was amazed that he'd managed to stay _conscious_, let alone on his feet.

"We'll make camp here," Arthur finally said, nearly collapsing on the spot. Merlin rushed forward to help his master.

The other knights sat as soon as they had heard their prince's declaration. Geraint was looking dazed, and Leon didn't look particularly comfortable either. Merlin was already working on Arthur's leg. He had the prince lay on his stomach and had just elevated the offending limb when Arthur snapped, "Stop! Listen; there's someone coming!" Merlin refused to stop in the middle of something this important, so he continued to tend the wound, trying to move as silently as possible. Arthur turned to glare at his servant, but allowed him to continue. That he didn't argue just served to strengthen Merlin's worries. It must really be bad if Arthur was willing to overlook direct insubordination.

Merlin tore a strip off the bottom of his shirt, hoping it was at least remotely clean, and proceeded to bandage the ugly red gash. It looked like infection had already begun to set in. He cursed; there was really nothing he could do about that now, not without means of cleansing the wound. There wasn't even any _water_ available!

The cut was still bleeding, though not badly. Merlin wasn't sure if he should be worried or relieved by the fact, but he didn't have time to think about it at the moment. Once they were out of immediate danger, he would perform a more thorough examination and make a reliable prognosis. Right now his job was to make sure Arthur could use his leg if they needed to disappear in a hurry.

When he had done everything possible for Arthur, Merlin finally allowed himself to pay better attention to his surroundings. It hadn't taken long for him to bandage his master's leg, and so by the time he had finished, the sounds which had first alarmed the prince were still audible. From somewhere almost directly in front of them came the distinct sounds of a wagon rattling and a harness jingling. Arthur signaled for everyone to move, but found himself unable to stand. Merlin draped Arthur's arm over his own shoulders and half-dragged the barely-conscious prince through the trees. After what felt like much longer than a few minutes, the foursome found themselves on a ledge overlooking what appeared to be a well-kept forest road. And indeed, there was a wagon making its way slowly toward them.

There was a little man driving - Merlin had seen a dwarf once, in a traveling fair passing through Camelot, so he wasn't really as shocked as he might have been. Still, it was strange to see such a small person driving a pack mule. There was another man, full-sized, lounging in the seat beside him. Merlin assumed he was a knight - he carried a sword and wore a shirt of chain mail, though he bore no coat of arms.

At a nudge from Arthur, Merlin returned his attention to the situation. The wagon had stopped almost directly below the men, and the knight was standing, looking around.

"I know you're here," he called. "Show yourselves. As long as you mean no harm to Narnia, you have nothing to fear from me."

Merlin froze when he heard the knight's speech. Narnia? They were in Narnia? But where was the snow? And Gaius had said Narnians were wild animals and half-beasts. Not knights and dwarfs…

So shocked was the warlock that when Arthur tugged on his neck in an attempt to better hide them both, he fell forward completely, dragging a furious prince with him. The men tumbled down the steep incline, landing in an undignified heap about a foot from the horse's legs (to the beast's credit, it remained almost perfectly still save for a flick of the tail).

Merlin was on his feet in an instant, watching the knight warily.

"What is this now?" he asked, amused. "Be you bandits, come to rob unwary travelers? Or travelers yourselves, come to seek your fortune? If you are the former, I must warn you; I've not much of value with me. If the latter is closer to the truth, then I bid you welcome!"

Arthur groaned at this point, and the strange knight seemed to notice him for the first time.

"But your companion is wounded!"

"_Mer_lin, you _idiot_, help me up!" Arthur hissed softly, so that only Merlin could hear. The younger man complied slowly, his eyes never leaving the sword at the knight's belt.

"What happened?" the man asked. Merlin looked to Arthur, unwilling to reply without the prince's consent.

"We were traveling," Arthur replied, leaning once more on Merlin. "We were attacked by a group of soldiers; we escaped through the mountains and were seeking aid when you arrived."

"Well, thank the Lion I arrived when I did! I can take you to my sister; she is a skilled healer and is not far from here." The knight was almost instantly off his seat and at Arthur's other side.

* * *

Edmund could tell the man was in pain - he was pale and had obviously lost a dangerous amount of blood recently. The other one, slighter in stature, was backing away protectively, but the King got the distinct feeling that the blond was in charge. Neither man seemed inclined to trust Edmund - and he couldn't blame them - but a little while longer and it really wouldn't matter.

The smaller of the two kept casting furtive glances into the trees, as if seeking aid, but they remained as silent as ever (the Trees on the Western Border had long since grown wild. Edmund sometimes wondered if they would ever re-awaken).

"Here, allow me," he said, moving to take the injured man's arm. The other backed up again.

"_Mer_lin," the towhead growled. Obviously the movement had caused some pain. Edmund briefly looked him over. Yes, there on his right calf. Blood had stained the entire pant leg.

"That _needs_ to be treated," he said seriously. "My sister is one of the most gifted healers in Narnia. She is a few hours away, but I can send word for her to meet us. And we can give you food - you look like you haven't eaten or slept in a while." The younger man - Merlin - was hesitant, but the other glared at him till he gave in.

"My men… they need medical attention as well," the blond said.  
"How many are you?" Edmund asked. He would need to get as much information to Lucy as possible - he knew that a message could traverse the miles between them in minutes.

"Four. Myself, Merlin, and two knights."

"Very well. Can they walk? Good. Then signal for them to come down. Duffle, would you mind helping me to rearrange these books? We will stack them along the sides." As the Dwarf climbed into the back of the cart, Edmund asked Merlin, "How long since they were wounded?"

"We… we were ambushed last night, around sunset," the man replied. "We've been running since." Now that he had been given permission, Merlin seemed willing to do whatever would help his companions. "Arthur was cut, and I've only now had time to bind the wound." By now, the other two men - the knights - had arrived. "Sir Leon has at least one broken rib - maybe two - but he hasn't punctured a lung. And I think Sir Geraint may have a concussion."

"And yourself?" Edmund asked.

"I twisted my ankle, but it will heal. Arthur needs to take priority."

"Alright. Here, set him down - he needs to get off that leg, anyway - and come help me with these books. Be careful, though - all of them are over a hundred years old." Merlin did as he was told, after making sure Arthur was as comfortable as possible.

"Sire," Duffle began, "I am going to send word to Queen Lucy. I'll inform her of the injuries. Is there anything else she should know?"  
"Not that she will be able to use right now," Edmund replied. "Thank you - and after this, you may return to your home if you wish. I thank you for your assistance here." The Dwarf bowed, before leaving Edmund and Merlin to their work.

"You're royalty?" Merlin asked, his hands stilling.

"Aye."

"And your sister is… the queen?"

"Mm. Queen Lucy the Valiant." Edmund looked up, not really surprised that the boy didn't know him and curious to see his reaction. He had perhaps expected some stammering, but he had not been expecting this. Merlin had paled significantly, and was watching Edmund suspiciously.

"Maybe we shouldn't… we wouldn't dare impose on Her Majesty's time…"

"It isn't a bother," Edmund replied, confused. "Not to Lucy. She practically lives for this sort of thing - helping people, that is. Besides, your friend needs attention. Come on, let's get Arthur and the rest up here. Help me lift him." Edmund strode over to the man, who was blinking dazedly. Arthur and the knights had not been in earshot during Edmund's conversation with Merlin, and so were far more grateful for a kind stranger.

Once the three injured men had been loaded into the cart, Edmund turned to Merlin. "There isn't room in the back for you. Since maybe you can afford to be jostled a bit - the road is hardly smooth on a good day - you can sit up here with me.

"What about… the…?"

Dwarf? Oh, Duffle has been looking for an excuse to leave since we started. He is only too glad to give up his seat - not that he would ever say so. Besides, once he gets the message started off, he will want to make his way home. He lives with his brothers near Archenland." Edmund climbed back into the cart and waited for Merlin before clicking to the horse to move out.

* * *

Merlin couldn't stop fidgeting. He doubted that the knights were lucid enough to notice much of their surroundings, so _he_ could at least try to remember the route. It wasn't a difficult task; the road twisted and wound its way through the strange wood, but there weren't any forks or intersections. When he wasn't watching the path, he was looking at Arthur, trying to gauge the prince's state. And he was constantly worrying about this queen they were meeting. It might not have been snowing - or even particularly chilly - but that didn't necessarily mean the other rumors weren't true. And Merlin didn't want to know what a powerful sorceress would do if she had the Prince of Camelot under her knife.

The young servant felt completely torn by this country. Everything he had heard about Narnia told him to be wary here. Yet his _magic_ - something that he had always trusted - told him that this place was… _good_. That part of him, that wild, powerful magic upon which he relied, was telling him that Narnia was more like a home than Camelot ever could have been.

There was no doubt that magic lived here. As present as it was in Camelot - woven into the very fabric of the land - it was overwhelming here. The part of the warlock which was so attuned to the magic was nearly trembling with ecstasy. Here Merlin definitely felt some kind of kindred spirit, though he couldn't really place it.

To say that this country was unnerving was an understatement. At one point, during a moment of pure fear, Merlin had tried to fell a tree - in an attempt to keep them from reaching this Queen Lucy - but had met some kind of resistance. Try as he might, the warlock couldn't even get a twig to fall. That had discouraged him - had his magic stopped working here? But no, he could still feel that familiar pull inside him, and he could still _do_ magic - inconspicuous things, like create a breeze or levitate a nail - but why couldn't he fell a tree? Or even a limb? He'd done it so many times before, and he'd never _not_ been able to...

"We're almost there," said the strange royal - Merlin realized he still hadn't given a name. "How are they?"

"Holding on," Merlin replied. He had meant Arthur, but didn't feel like clarifying. He was peering forward, morbidly eager to meet this Queen Lucy. Would she be the terrifying Sorceress Queen he had been imagining? Would she know about Arthur? Or worse - would she know Merlin's secret? And what if she did - would she be angry?

These questions and more were whirling around in his head as the group entered a clearing.

There was another, smaller wagon waiting for them, with a pretty bay hitched to it. The bay was not tethered to anything, but seemed to have no inclination to leave; when they arrived in the clearing, she looked up and nickered softly, before returning to her grazing.

"Lu, can I get some help?" Merlin tensed, a terrible kind of curiosity keeping his eyes on the back of the cart.

"Bring them around here. I have everything set up."


	4. Chapter 4: Into the Fire

**I'm back! A day late, perhaps, but better late than never, no?  
Anyway, thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far. The two worlds have met - what do we think about that? **

**I'm still excited about where this is going, but this chapter isn't my favorite. Still a little uneasy about it, but I feel like it's as good as it's going to get right now. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own BBC's ****_Merlin_**** or C. S. Lewis' ****_Chronicles of Narnia_****. The characters belong to their respective franchises. OCs belong to me.**

**Special thanks to CaraLee934 for being an awesome Beta!**

**Now, without further ado, I present**

_Once and Future, Chapter 4: Into the Fire  
In which a Warlock meets a Queen who is also Not a Sorceress._

* * *

A hundred years of living practically underground had produced a remarkably efficient communication system among the Narnians. A message could get from Cair Paravel to Lantern Waste in less than a day - it only took a few minutes for Lucy to learn of the four strangers, and so she immediately set into action. She had been visiting a family of Black Dwarfs who had lived near the Shuddering Wood since the fall of the White Witch (the family had proven to be invaluable spies for the Narnians, as they were able to pass as servants of the Witch, but at great risk to their own reputation. Even now, ten years later, many of the Narnians who had not been so involved with the resistance efforts thought the family little more than traitorous scum, so Lucy made a point to spend as much time as she could with them). They lived about a mile away from the Dancing Lawn, and were not far out of the way for Edmund

Lucy was helping Neverra, the matriarch of the family, with the laundry when a young Dryad girl rushed into the clearing. "Emrys has come to Narnia!" she exulted in that airy yet gravelly tone common among the tree spirits.

"Emrys?" Lucy asked.

"The one who will bring about the time of Albion!" the Dryad exclaimed with a bow. "If you'll excuse me, Your Grace, I must go tell the others!"

"Albion?" Lucy turned to Neverra. The Dwarf woman shrugged. "I know nothing of the antics of Trees, Little Queen. Perhaps when your royal brother returns, you can ask him." Lucy nodded, knowing that if anyone knew what was going on, it would be Edmund. "Now help me get supplies gathered. You will need bandages, herbs, food. I'll have Jorik and Nikentril hitch up the wagon and prepare it for your journey."

"Oh, thank you, Neverra! I would never have thought of that!"

"I know, Little Queen," Neverra chuckled fondly. Lucy was not known for her foresight - in fact, the Valiant Queen was infamous for acting on impulse. It was one of the traits which had endeared her to her subjects - even after she had come into womanhood, she retained the almost-careless actions of a child.

There are very few creatures who work quite so hard or quite so fast as Dwarfs- especially Dwarfs on a mission. As such, Lucy was ready to depart within the hour. Nikentril had gladly lent his Queen their wagon - one of the only things the family possessed which could just as easily fit a group of Humans as it could a group of Dwarfs - and Neverra had laden it with more supplies than Lucy thought she would ever need. She tied the lead of her own palfrey to the back of the cart so that she could divert her full attention to driving the draft-horse Nikentril had provided.

She gracefully declined the Dwarf's request to accompany her - she knew that there was still much work to be done in their house if they were to be ready for the planting season, and she had no desire to take him any more from his work than she already had. Besides, Lucy had traveled the road she was taking more times than she could count, both alone and with a group. She was more than a match for anyone who dared attack, and in Narnia the Valiant Queen was never far from aid. She pretended not to notice, but she knew that there was always some sort of Guard lurking around, ready to intervene should she need it - and any Narnian passing by would gladly do aid her as well.

She traveled along the muddy road for a little over two hours, and stopped when she heard the jingle of another cart coming around the bend. It was moving much more slowly than her own was - and no wonder, she thought. If it was Edmund, he would be carrying his books _and_ his passengers. The Queen suddenly felt concern for the beast pulling them. It could not be an easy feat, and the horse was likely ready to drop on its feet…

Shaking her thoughts off, she hopped out of the wagon and began to prepare a portable infirmary of sorts for her patients. Just under an hour after the message had been sent, Lucy was on the road with the draft horse lent to her by the Dwarfs, and her roan mare hitched to the back of the cart.

By the time she heard her brother's cheerful call, she had food and medical supplies laid out in the wagon, and had set up pallets for whomever would need them.

"Bring them around here," she said, coming from around the wagon. "I have everything set up."

Edmund was sitting in the driver's seat, with another dark-haired man who looked to be around Edmund's age, maybe a little older. The man eyed her, obviously wary, but Lucy couldn't puzzle over it at the moment.

"Edmund, help get everyone settled in." She set about unhitching the horse, then took him and her two to graze and get a well-earned drink.

* * *

Merlin helped the noble - Edmund, his sister had called him - get Arthur and Sir Leon out of the wagon. He noted that if it came to it, the odds would be stacked against them. Merlin didn't dare use his magic here; not after the disappointing experiments from earlier. So he remained tensed, ready to spring into action if needed. He hadn't got a very good look at the queen, as the moment she had told her brother what to do, she had disappeared with the horses.

Merlin waited anxiously for the woman to return. He was a little confused by her actions - surely the horses weren't as important as Arthur's recovery! Couldn't she tell that the prince needed medical attention?

"What is she doing?" he asked Edmund.

"Lucy is doing what Lucy does. She is making sure that everyone under her care is seen to. Don't worry; she won't waste time. Believe me, I've been _far_ worse off than your friend, and she has never let me down. See, here she comes." The man was right - the queen was emerging from the glen into which she had disappeared.

Whatever Merlin had been expecting of Queen Lucy, _this_ wasn't it. She was young; that was the first thing that flashed through the warlock's mind. She couldn't have been older than he. And she looked _nothing_ like what he had imagined a powerful queen to be. She was rather short, with honey-colored hair which was currently pulled back into a braid. She was dressed in a soft kind of cotton made of three or four different shades of blue. Her face was what shocked Merlin the most, though - she _looked_ young. It was more than the appearance of a girl in her youth, though such was true of her. She looked _innocent_, naïve, and he found himself wanting to shield her from the grisly affair that was Arthur's leg. Merlin could hardly believe that this _girl_ was a queen, much less a sorceress.

_That's probably part of her magic_, was his initial assumption. But no, he was typically immune to such enchantments. He was a creature of magic; his own magic would fight it. But the warning bells which usually accompanied a magical attack were silent…

"Are you hurt at all?" Queen Lucy asked. "You're the one with the twisted ankle. Anything else wrong?" It took Merlin a moment to realize she was addressing him.

"No, I'm fine." The girl nodded.

"Then you can help me. There's a pot in the wagon - could you and Edmund get started on boiling water?" The two young men shared a glance, then nodded silently. Since the girl had already turned back to her task, she didn't see them, but the question seemed to be rhetorical. She was at the moment working on cutting Arthur's pant leg away with a knife Merlin hadn't seen her draw. The men went about following her orders.

They worked mostly in silence. Edmund suggested that they gather plenty of wood. "There's no telling how long she'll want to stay here, so we should be prepared for anything. Besides, if we stay the night you won't want to be caught alone after dark. Not here." Merlin wondered at this, but said nothing. He wouldn't want to be caught in any wood after dark, particularly not this one. He still didn't know what to make of the obviously magic-infused air.

"Are you sure she knows what she's doing?" the warlock found himself asking. "I mean, it's rather unusual for a queen to be a skilled healer, isn't it?"

"Aye," Edmund laughed, "but Lucy is hardly a _usual_ queen. I think you shall find that Narnia has a _very_ different definition of _usual_ than any other country in Albion." On that point, Merlin agreed wholeheartedly. "Anyway, Lucy is the most talented healer in Narnia. She has been studying the art since she was a child, and she's always had a knack for it. She has the perfect heart for healing."

"I have to admit, she isn't really what I was expecting."

"She never is," the noble chuckled fondly. "I have known her all her life and she still surprises me. Out of curiosity, what were you expecting?" Merlin thought for a moment, and decided it was time to separate myth from fact.

"In Camelot, Narnia is… more a country of legend than reality. I think there are a lot of stories that got embellished in the retelling…"

"What kind of stories?"

"Well," Merlin picked his words carefully. "It was said that Narnia was… enchanted so that it was always winter."

"Always Winter and never Christmas," Edmund muttered. Merlin nodded.

"And that the person responsible was the Queen…"

"And you are worried _Lucy_ is that Queen?" Merlin wondered if he had just made a huge mistake. The last thing he wanted was to offend this nobleman after so much effort had been made on his account. "Well now your hesitation makes much more sense; but have no fear. Narnia _was_ under an enchantment - for a hundred years - but no longer. Lucy is no more a sorcerer than you or I." Merlin almost visibly smirked at the irony, but refrained.

"How was the enchantment broken?" the warlock asked. Edmund frowned.

"I can never tell the story right," he said. "I get all the details jumbled and usually just make it more confusing. Ask Lucy when she gets the time; she is the better bard." Though Merlin now had more questions than answers, he felt satisfied as the two made their way back to camp. At least he could rest assured that his hosts were not maleficent sorcerers or anything like.

"Did you do this?" Queen Lucy asked the moment the two emerged from the trees. Merlin approached the healer, confused.

"Do what?" he asked.

"The bandage. It was well done; do you have any medical training?"

"I live with a physician, so I've picked up on the basics," he replied.

"Excellent - do you know your way around medical supplies?"

"Yes." He had cleaned more of Gaius' things than he cared to think about, and as such he knew what most instruments were called and their basic functions.

"When Edmund gets the fire going, could you boil some yarrow tea? Until then, can you bring me vinegar? It's in the tall jug near the front of the wagon, over there." Merlin found the yarrow and placed it on the tailgate of the cart, before bringing the vinegar to Queen Lucy. "Thank you. Now, do you know how to test a fractured bone? Go over to the man who broke his rib and see what can be done."

Merlin went to Sir Leon, who had already removed his shirt and was concentrating on breathing properly. Both men had been through the procedure often enough, so it only took a few minutes to properly check the ribs. As Merlin had originally predicted, there were no punctured organs; the ribs seemed to only have suffered a minor fracture. By the time he had wrapped Leon's chest, the yarrow tea was ready.

"Edmund, could you get some cups?" As the nobleman went back, Merlin turned to the Queen.

"Now what?" he asked.

"Come over here and watch him. I'm going to check the other man for concussion. When Edmund gets back, try to get him to drink some of the tea. It won't knock him out, but it might relax him enough that he won't be entirely lucid when I cleanse the wound. It will definitely hurt."

Merlin complied, worried for his master. It appeared that Arthur had finally gone into shock. He was unresponsive, hardly even breathing. Queen Lucy had managed to prop his leg up on a small log, and had wrapped the rag around to prevent any more blood loss. Merlin was skilled enough to know that if the wound wasn't closed soon, Arthur would fall completely into unconsciousness, and it wasn't likely he would wake up.

Edmund came back with two earthen cups of tea. "You take one," he instructed. "The other is for Arthur." Merlin nodded and turned his attention to the Prince.

When Queen Lucy had finished with Sir Geraint, she returned to Arthur's side. "Edmund," she called, "can you find me a needle and thread? Neverra packed a kit; I think it is in that large basket. With the bandages. Also, bring me honey."

"Honey?" Merlin asked, shocked. What, she wasn't happy with the taste of her tea? Surely there were more important things to worry about right now!

"For dressing the wound. It helps with disinfection and healing," the Queen said distractedly. "Here, come hold him down. I have to apply the vinegar, and it won't be pleasant." Merlin stored the knowledge for further examination and positioned himself so that he could help Lucy. The girl poured a generous amount of the disinfectant onto Arthur's now-open wound. The prince gasped, instinctively trying to roll away, and it was all Merlin could do to keep him still. Queen Lucy blew gently onto the offending gash in an attempt to soothe the pain. Eventually Arthur stilled once more - just in time for Edmund to bring the supplies his sister had requested.

"Can you sterilize this?" Lucy asked, handing the needle to Merlin. She continued to blow and fan the laceration with her hand, gingerly dabbing the skin around it. "And go ahead and take the bandages out so that they can dry. Hang them over the fire."

"I can do that," Edmund said. "Merlin, you stay and help Lucy. You are probably a better hand than I." Both Merlin and Lucy nodded as the warlock handed the healer a now-sterilized needle.

"Thank you. Could you go ahead and fix some tea for Sir Geraint? He'll need something to help his head. And please make sure Sir Leon is comfortable. They both need to rest."

Half an hour later, Lucy and Merlin had done all they could. Arthur was sleeping ("He'll be doing a lot of that," Lucy said, "until his body has recuperated from the blood loss. And he will be grouchy.") Leon and Geraint had been made as comfortable as possible, and were now sipping on Merlin's yarrow tea.

"I'm Lucy, by the way," the girl said, smiling. "Lucy Pevensie."

"Merlin… your Highness," Merlin was by now completely flabbergasted. He was utterly convinced that Lucy Pevensie was not an evil sorceress - and to tell the truth, he wasn't entirely sure she was a queen, either, no matter what her brother may say.

"Well, Merlin, may I be the first to say, 'Welcome to Narnia!'" Lucy was certainly cheerful, despite present circumstances. Even when she had been treating Arthur, there was none of the grim determination Merlin had witnessed from Gaius. She hadn't really seemed overly worried about any of her patients - she just worked. "Are you hungry?"

"What?"

"Are you hungry? Neverra sent us so much food, I think we could feed a small army. And all of it has been cooked and tastes wonderful warm or cold, so there's no need to reheat it." When he had caught up with this new direction of the conversation, Merlin remembered that none of his party had eaten since… lunch of the day before. As if to reinforce the realization, his stomach chose this moment to let out a growl that would shame a lion.

"I think we all are," he confessed, looking at Leon and Geraint - the latter of whom was starting to nod off.

"Good. You fix your plate - let Edmund and I worry about everyone else."

* * *

The entire situation was a strange one. Merlin found himself quite confused by the behavior of the supposed queen and her brother. Neither acted like any of the nobility Merlin had ever met - and a man in _his _line of work had met _plenty_.

When at last all of the food had been laid out, Merlin noted that the rest of his company had fallen asleep. Merlin himself was on his last leg, but his desire for food far outweighed his drowsiness.

"There'll be plenty left for them when they wake," Lucy said, noticing the manservant's hesitation. "Here." She handed him a clay plate. "Take your fill. And if you want seconds, go for them. There's good food almost everywhere you look in Narnia." Lucy shared none of Merlin's hesitations. She loaded her plate with whatever took her fancy, and settled on the grass with the food before her. Edmund did the same. Merlin wondered why they hadn't begun eating yet, until he noticed they were waiting for _him_. Feeling completely out of place, the warlock followed their lead, and soon all three were sitting in a triangle, preparing to eat. Merlin wasn't accustomed to eating _with_ people of higher rank than he - usually, he was serving, and would eat whatever leftovers there were.

The royals ate in earnest, but kept up a conversation. They spoke with a familiarity that even Arthur and Morgana hadn't shared - and since theirs was the only remotely sibling-like behavior Merlin had ever had a chance to witness, he wasn't sure if this was normal or not.

Lucy made sure to keep Merlin included as much as possible. She would often leave a question open for anyone to answer, and as the meal progressed, Merlin began to assert his opinion, and he and Edmund would debate the answer. Lucy seemed to take delight in their conversations, and she laughed often. Merlin decided he liked the sound. It was like the tinkling of little bells or the sighing of the wind. It was gleeful and childish and sweet and light, and it was definitely among the most pleasant sounds he'd ever heard.

"So," she began, this time clearly addressing Merlin, "What brings you to Narnia? Edmund says you came from beyond the Western Mountains."

"We were attacked," Merlin said carefully, unsure of how much he should reveal to these people. Sure, they were friendly now, but would they still be so when they learned that there was a prince under their control?

"By whom?"

"A group of soldiers belonging to King Cenred."

"Ugh. There are very few men I simply _loathe_," Lucy huffed, "but he - he is worthy of it." Merlin wondered at the sudden venom in Lucy's words. She seemed a generally cheerful soul - what could Cenred possibly have done to earn such a negative opinion from her?

"What did he want with you?" Edmund asked, pointedly ignoring his sister's comment.

"Not sure. His men - well, we _did_ walk into _their_ camp, but we hardly knew that - they ambushed us during the downpour last night."

"Then I suppose I cannot say I blame them," Edmund chuckled. "If someone blundered into my camp in the middle of the night, I would likely react the same way."

"Sure, but they weren't meant to be there in the first place," Merlin pointed out. "They were camped in Camelot."

"Camelot?" Edmund stared at Merlin as if the man had grown another head.

Lucy furrowed her brow, watching her brother.

"You said your companion's name was Arthur?" Edmund asked Merlin, who nodded warily.

"Ed, I think you're scaring our guest..." Lucy shook her brother out of his reverie. Edmund mumbled something under his breath and looked away from the perplexed manservant. Did they know? But Edmund wasn't acting... _suspicious_, just... confused.

Well, Merlin wouldn't give them away. He turned back to his food began consuming it with renewed gusto.

"This really is the best food I've ever tasted," he said.

"You think this is good, wait till you try the food at Cair Paravel! We eat like this every night!" Lucy's words caused both Merlin and Edmund to pause once more.

"Cair Paravel?" Merlin asked.

"Narnia's capitol," Edmund explained. "Lucy... have you told Susan yet? You know she hates it when you just show up with surprise guests."

"I was going to wait until we got a confirmation. Haven't had a chance to yet."

"Please..." Merlin interrupted. He knew that the group was running late as it stood. Arthur would _not_ approve of their accompanying these strangers - however helpful they had been - to some unknown city, where they would be completely at the mercy of their hosts. "We need to be heading back," he insisted. "We will be missed."

"Well, how far do you have to travel?" Lucy asked. "He needs a bed -" here she indicated Arthur "- and Cair Paravel is only a day's ride East. Less if we cut through the River. Besides, you have no horses. None of them should be walking in their conditions."

Merlin knew all of this, and he knew the dangers of Arthur's leg becoming infected, and he knew that accompanying Lucy - who, queen or not had proved herself a _more_ than competent healer - would be the best option for Aurthur. It was almost four days till they would reach Camelot, and a _lot_ could happen in that time. Still, he didn't want to hand his prince over to two strangers, royal or otherwise.

"I don't want to inconvenience you," he muttered - though, if he had known Queen Lucy the Valiant any better, he would have known _that_ that was the wrong thing to say. "You have both done too much already. I do not want to have a debt we cannot repay."

"Nonsense," Lucy replied. "You would be honored guests! And it would be a nice refreshment to have Human company. Besides stuffy lords who come to test Narnia's weaknesses, or pompous princes trying to court Susan. Believe me, your stay would be nothing short of wonderful, for all of us." Merlin noticed that for a queen, Lucy seemed to pay very little attention to what came out of her mouth. From the grammar structure to the words themselves, she didn't appear to put much thought into what she said. It made her a little more real - at least with this royal, Merlin could tell there was no ulterior motive. Her brother, however...

"The choice is yours," Edmund was saying, trying to repair whatever damage he thought Lucy had caused. "Talk it over with your companions. I apologize; Lucy can be a little... pushy sometimes, without meaning to be. Of course you are welcome to stay in Narnia, but if you decide to make for your own home, we will provide you with an escort to the border."

Merlin thanked the man, glad the pressure was off himself.

"I'm sorry, Merlin," Lucy said quietly, as if there was anyone to overhear her. "I didn't mean to back you into a corner." She didn't give him a chance to answer - she smiled at him and rose to check on her patients.

After a while, Merlin began to nod off. He didn't want to go to sleep with the rest of his company so badly off, but he was full and dry and warm, and he hadn't slept at all since the night before last. At Lucy's insistence, he finally lay down on his own pallet and sank into one of the most blissful slumbers he'd ever had.


	5. Chapter 5: Of Kings and Queens

**I've managed to keep a pretty good schedule! Still no Peter or Susan in this chapter, unfortunately, but we finally get Arthur's thoughts on all this!**

**No author's notes this time... enjoy!**

_Once and Future Chapter 5: Of Kings and Queens  
In which a Servant is curious, a Prat is confused, and a Healer is spontaneous.  
_

* * *

Merlin felt a cool hand on his forehead, then on his cheek. He opened his eyes to find Lucy almost directly above him, but she was looking somewhere to his right. Merlin followed her gaze.

The strangest woman he had ever seen was standing at the edge of the clearing, staring straight at him. Her skin was brown - not the smooth tan like some of the women in Camelot, but actually _brown_, like the trunk of a tree. Her her hair was a similar color, and it was stiff, like straw. It stuck out every which way, whipping around her face even though there was no breeze.

"Mylan, what is it?" Lucy asked. The woman's gaze moved to the queen, and she bowed. The movement was fluid - much more natural-looking than any bow he had ever seen. It was like there was a gust of wind blowing her forward, then back. It was a strangely beautiful motion, though on anyone else Merlin imagined it would look ridiculous.

"My sisters have delivered your message to Queen Susan, your Grace, and bring one in return. The High King was unable to settle the Galman trade disputes to Lord Regg's satisfaction. The Governor has demanded that a member of the Royal Court personally come to negotiate. His Highness sends his regrets to your Grace that he was unable to bid farewell in person, but he hopes this will be resolved before the Winter's End feast." Merlin frowned - two queens? How did that work? He had heard of some wealthy men keeping several wives, but he imagined that, even if a king did so, only one would be allowed the title of "Queen."

Lucy stood and approached Mylan.

"Does Edmund know this?" she asked.

"I spoke with His Highness as he passed. He did not seem surprised."

"No, I don't suppose he would. Thank you, Mylan. Please thank your sisters, as well." Mylan bowed again before melting back into the woods. Lucy turned around, her brow still furrowed, until her eyes landed on Merlin.

"Oh, you're awake! Good, I was beginning to wonder if the cold had made you sick last night. It wouldn't be the first time someone caught their death because of the rain. How are you feeling?"

"Who was that woman?" he asked before remembering that he was addressing a queen, and that he was her guest. When he did remember, he nearly cursed out loud - it wasn't his business!

"Who, Mylan? Oh, she is one of our most trusted messengers. I was just informing Susan that Edmund and I would be late getting home."

"I... I heard Mylan say that Susan was also a queen..."

"Oh, Edmund didn't tell you?" Lucy asked.

"Apparently not..."

"Bother. He's usually the one who thinks to warn people. I suppose if you've never been to Narnia, it can be a little strange. There are four of us: Peter, Susan, Edmund and I. We are siblings, and we rule together. Aslan crowned us ten years ago, after the White Witch was defeated. Peter is the High King - he rules over the whole of Narnia. Susan, Edmund and I rule beside him, equally." From the hurried explanation, Merlin got the feeling this was something she'd said several times. The warlock took a moment to process this information. So Lucy shared her throne with her three siblings? Nothing like that had ever been heard of in Camelot.

"Who is Aslan?" he asked. He'd heard the name before, during one of Edmund - _King Edmund's_- speeches.

"The Great Lion, the Son of the Emperor Beyond-the-Sea. He's the one who created Narnia, the one who defeated the White Witch. He crowned the four of us at Cair Paravel. He's the King of Kings. He rules over all of us, even Peter." The Queen spouted facts, but the way she walked and the certain lilt to her voice made him wonder if there was something more beneath them. Whoever Aslan was, he was obviously important to Queen Lucy.

"You've met this… Aslan, then?" The knowing smile that teased Lucy's lips was all the answer he needed. Merlin wondered about Aslan, but he was more curious about the fact that _four_ siblings shared their reign over the same country. "So... how does..."

"How does it work?" Lucy seemed to know exactly what Merlin was talking about, despite his jumping from one subject to another. She smiled and replied, "Well, like I said, Peter's the High King. He is charge of keeping peace, making war, signing treaties. Susan stays home most of the time. She's the reason everything runs so smoothly. She has organized every social event we've hosted since our coronation. She knows every member of every international delegation we've ever dealt with, and she knows Cair Paravel like the back of her hand.

"Edmund is the scholar. He's the court judge and primary lawmaker. He draws _up_ the treaties, writes the laws, enforces them. He's also _technically_ the Chief Narnian Ambassador, but any one of us have representative authority. He's the one that enjoys it the most, though. He is a good negotiator, so he can usually find a common ground and leave with both parties happy. And me - I go where I'm needed. If there's a battle, I usually fight with the archers. If there's a problem in the Lone Islands, I go to the Lone Islands. I suppose I am a sort of ambassador, too, but I spend most of my time within Narnian borders. Of course," she chuckled gently, "this isn't a strict mold, but it's what seems to work best." Merlin was still trying to imagine a country ruled by _siblings_, but it was completely beyond his ability to fathom. All he could picture was Arthur and three other faceless people, all too prideful to rule collectively. Camelot would be in shambles!

While they were talking, King Edmund returned from whatever errand he'd been running.

"Should we wake the others?" he asked Lucy. "None of them have eaten yet."

"I was just about to," the queen replied. "Can you get plates ready? Merlin and I will get them up." Merlin frowned at the familiarity with which Lucy spoke. It wasn't that he was opposed to it - just the opposite, really - but he _wasn't_ used to anything like that from Arthur -propriety and all. H also wondered at the fact that she had sent her brother, a King, to do grunt work while Merlin got to wake the injured... speaking of which -

"Let me wake Arthur, milady," he said just as Lucy reached down to shake him. "You're liable to get punched waking him up, and I've figured out how to avoid that."

"Very well," Lucy laughed, stepping back. Again, Merlin was struck by the lovely sound. "What of the other knights? Am I in danger from them?"

"No idea," Merlin confessed. Still laughing, Lucy moved to wake Sir Leon while Merlin knelt next to his master. "Arthur," he whispered tentatively. The prince didn't stir. "Arthur!" This time a little louder. "Time to get up!" The warlock adopted his "annoyingly-cheerful-and-ridiculously-bright morning face," purely out of habit, and shook his liege.

"Go _away_, _Mer_lin!" the Prince groaned. Merlin couldn't help his small sigh of relief at the response.

* * *

"Time to eat, Sire!" Arthur rolled over to glare at his manservant.

"Can't you see I'm _sleeping_, _Mer_lin?" he growled.

"Queen Lucy says you need to eat."

"_Who_?"

"Queen Lucy, the one who tended your leg." Arthur stared at Merlin, trying to decide if he was serious or not.

"Did you say food?" he asked, having decided he didn't much care at the moment if Merlin was joking. He would deal with it later.

"Best I've ever tasted."

"That's not saying much."

"You got him to wake!" Arthur looked past his servant to see a pretty young woman smiling sweetly at them. "How is your leg?" Arthur looked at the offending appendage, noticing it for the first time since he'd awoken.

"It... hurts," he said lamely, wincing at how whiny he sounded. That wasn't what he'd meant to say -

"I'm sure. Are you hungry? Here, I'll help you over to the pallet. Sorry, there's no table, but the grass here is just as good as any pillow."

"I can get up myself," Arthur protested. The girl tilted her head, like a dog presented with an enigma, but stood aside. Arthur moved to sit up, but quickly thought better of it. "My head..."

"You've lost a lot of blood," she explained, moving once more to help the prince. Merlin took his right arm, and together the two managed to hoist Arthur onto his feet - well, _foot_. He kept his wounded leg off the ground. Once he was up, the girl repositioned herself so that she was holding his arm, rather than supporting his weight. Arthur was grateful for that - he hated the feeling of looking weak, especially in front of strangers, and this woman seemed to pick up on that. Merlin, of course, had no such inhibitions, and kept Arthur's arm draped over his shoulder. Outwardly, the prince was annoyed, but he knew that he wouldn't have been able to take the few steps on his own.

"Thank you," he said to the woman when they had reached the food.

"Of course," she smiled, helping him to sit. "Help yourself to the food, but eat slowly. What do you remember?"

Arthur frowned, staring past the food. "We were... we walked into an enemy camp, got captured. When we got loose, we had to run... through the mountains? We ran all night, and when it stopped raining, we were... no, that can't be right..."

"We had gone straight through the mountains, instead of turning around," Merlin supplied. Arthur felt his eyes widen.

"But that means we're in -"

"Narnia!" A man sat down across from Arthur. The prince remembered that this was the same man who had found them when they tumbled down the slope. He offered Arthur a plate, which the prince accepted automatically. "I found you by the road and offered to bring you here, to Lucy. She stitched your leg, and took care of the others." Arthur turned his eyes to the woman who had helped them over, actually noticing her for the first time. She was certainly a beautiful girl, with kind eyes and a ready smile.

"Thank you, my Lady, again. It seems I owe you my life - and the lives of my men."

"I'm glad I was here," the Lady - Lucy - said cheerfully. "Despite Edmund's protests." Here she shot a playful glance toward the man who had found them. Edmund.

"And thank you, Sir. You took a great risk helping us. Camelot is in your debt." Edmund and Lucy both looked puzzled at this, but said nothing. Arthur's attention was then drawn to the pallet, and the food it held. Never had _anything_ seemed more appetizing than _that_ food at _that_ moment. Arthur had to stop himself from simply grabbing whatever looked good and stuffing it in his mouth. He carefully took a little bit of everything and put it on the plate. Once there was no more room, it was all he could do to heed Lucy's advice and pace himself. Merlin had been right; this was some of the best food he had ever tasted. At this point, he wasn't sure if that was the hunger talking, or if it was because the food really _was_ good, but he decided that it didn't really matter.

He noticed the knights a little ways off, but did not bother calling out to them. They were just as hungry as he, and he knew that right now distractions were the last things he wanted.

* * *

The prince took slow, perfectly measured bites. His leg hurt like the _devil_, and he was beyond exhausted - and more than a little dazed - but he could tell Lucy had done a good job.

As he ate, he allowed his mind to wander. It felt like he had been asleep for ages; he had no idea how long it had been in reality, and that unnerved him. Normally he had a pretty good sense of time, even in sleep, but his biological clock seemed to have been thrown off. Arthur wasn't sure if he had really slept long enough to do that, or if it was the blood loss, or both, but he didn't like the feeling of not knowing how long he had been out of it. He _did_ know, however, that he was running late. He needed to get back to Camelot - but he was in _no_ condition to be traipsing through the mountains and fields, especially not on foot. He was at _least_ four days from the Citadel - and that was on horseback.

No, he wasn't going back any time soon. But what would he do? Would this Lucy allow him to stay here? But he couldn't ask that of her... and Edmund had said they were in _Narnia_. Everything the rumors had said about this place were practically horror stories for the citizens of Camelot. But where was the snow? Arthur understood that stories often got embellished over time and distace - perhaps the "hundred-year Winter" had been one such tale. And if that were so, he could see where people got the idea of a Sorcerer-Queen keeping it that way.

Arthur sighed. Well, musing like this wouldn't get him any answers. He would talk to Merlin - the manservant seemed to know a little more than Arthur did - and see what the story was. Then he would deal with anything else that came his way.

Eventually Lucy and Edmund walked over to the knights. Arthur took the chance to speak to his manservant in private.

"So, tell me everything. What have I missed?"

"Well..." Merlin took a deep breath, preparing to jump into the explanation. "Sir Leon fractured a rib. Sir Geraint is getting over a mild concussion. You were the worst off - you lost a lot of blood, and infection was beginning to set in. When we met Edmund, you were almost unconscious..." Arthur listened as intently as he could, trying not to doze off. He was surprised to learn that Edmund and Lucy were King and Queen of Narnia - and that they were brother and sister. He wasn't really sure how to react, though he was slightly relieved that Queen Lucy had already offered them shelter in "Cair Paravel."

"And what of the rumors - that Narnia is ruled by a Sorceress?"

"As far as I can tell, they are false, Sire," Merlin replied, "though there _is_ something strange about the place. I can't quite put my finger on it."

"And do you think these people - this King Edmund and Queen Lucy - are trustworthy?"

"I think so. But I haven't told them you are the prince of Camelot. As far as they know, we are just travelers. They haven't pressed for any details." Arthur frowned. This complicated things a little, but he understood why Merlin had refrained from giving his identity. He now felt that it would be lying if he continued to keep them in the dark - if they had been peasants, he might not have cared, but if they were royals, it would be cause for international strife. Besides, he really had no desire to insult the people who had gone so far out of their way to help him. Still, he had _no_ idea how they would react...

"Do you think they will take it poorly?" he asked, eying the royals warily.

"I'm not sure," Merlin replied. "Queen Lucy probably wouldn't care one way or the other, but King Edmund... I haven't been able to read him as well."

"You said he is the lawmaker?"

"Yes." Arthur nodded, exhaling deeply. "Arthur? Are you alright?"

"I need to tell them," the Prince said. "Then I need to sleep."

"Why don't you eat a little more?" Merlin asked. "They'll come back to check on you; you can tell them then." Arthur wasn't about to say no to more food - by now he had decided that, yes, it _was _genuinely some of the best food ever cooked - and he really didn't have the energy to argue with a stubborn Merlin, so he took another piece of chicken and settled down to wait.

As Merlin predicted, Queen Lucy wasn't long in coming back.

"Feeling a little better?" she asked, sitting down. "Not too dizzy?"

"I do feel better, your Majesty," Arthur said, as graciously as he could given the circumstances. "And I have you to thank for that."

"I'm only glad Edmund was there. Cenred has been giving us a hard time of late; I can only imagine what his men had planned for you." Arthur nodded, wondering what Cenred had done to Narnia.

"I was actually hoping to speak you King Edmund and yourself," he said. "If it is not too much trouble."

"Of course not," Queen Lucy said, and beckoned her brother over. The two sat directly across from Arthur and Merlin, waiting attentively.

Arthur took a deep breath, allowing himself to calm his now-racing heart. "This should have been made clear from the beginning - and it was not kept from you by any ill-intent - but it is important that you know this. My father... My father is Uther Pendragon, King of Camelot. I am his only heir." The words came out in a bit of a rush, but once they were said, Arthur cursed. Surely there had been a better way to say that? _To be fair_, he thought, _I'm not really at my best right now. If I had a little more time, that would have sounded much better._

Arthur watched the monarchs in front of him, trying to gauge their thoughts. Queen Lucy looked completely shocked at first, but soon recovered, instead grinning happily. King Edmund... Arthur couldn't tell _what_ King Edmund was thinking. His face was a careful mask devoid of any emotion.

Feeling strangely like a small child awaiting punishment, Arthur continued, "I am sorry for having kept this from you. I should have introduced myself as soon as I met you."

"You have nothing to apologize for, Prince Arthur," King Edmund said eventually. "I understand why you kept your peace. I might have done the same; and I thank you for telling us now."

"Besides," Queen Lucy interjected, "you _did_ have other, more important things on your mind. And of course, this doesn't change anything. Our initial invitation stands; you and your company are more than welcome to stay at Cair Paravel while you recover."

Arthur couldn't believe his luck. Not only were they _not_ angry - they were still extending an invitation? Of course, it may have been just an act - a courtesy and nothing more - but from Merlin's description, Queen Lucy had been genuinely distressed when he declined her invitation the first time.

Still, Arthur didn't know how to accept without appearing to be taking liberties. It wasn't as if there had been a courier to announce his arrival - they had literally crashed into Narnia and had been leaning on the King and Queen every moment since. Still, he knew he couldn't go back. Traversing the whole of Camelot in his condition was out of the question. And something told him he could _trust_ these people.

"That might actually be a good idea," the Queen mused. "It could be a State visit - a step toward breaking down the barriers the Western Mountains have created!"

"We'll talk about that later, Lu. I think Susan might actually kill us if we brought back an _ambassador_." Kind Edmund placed a hand on his sister's shoulder, smiling fondly.

"Anyway, you sleep on it," Lucy told Arthur. "Our offer stands; if you'd like, we can leave in the morning and arrive at Cair Paravel by nightfall." Arthur thanked the Queen once more, and allowed Merlin to help him to a pallet.

He was asleep before his head finished falling.


	6. Chapter 6: The Dancing Lawn

**Well, here it is! Right on schedule! **

**We're going "further up and further in," as dear Mr. Lewis would say. Getting closer to the heart of Narnia!**

**I'm actually running short on pre-written chapters, so I'm going to have to step up my game here shortly - which is an ****_excellent_**** problem to have, by the way.**

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed/favorited/followed Once and Future, and thank you to everyone who has favorited/followed me as an author. I can only say that I am beyond flattered, and I hope I live up to your expectations. **

**Another ****_enormous_**** "Thank you" to my darling Beta, CaraLee934. Believe me when I say that she certainly had her hands full with this chapter.**

**Okay, last bit of housekeeping - Disclaimer: I do not own ****_Merlin_**** or ****_The Chronicles of Narnia_****, nor do I own any of the characters taken directly from said universes. The muses for this story belong respectively to BBC and C.S. Lewis. Original Characters belong to me.**

**And now, the feature presentation...**

_Once and Future Chapter 6: The Dancing Lawn  
In which a Queen is awoken, a Warlock attends a party, and a Prince is apprehensive._

* * *

Lucy guessed it was around midnight that she first heard the drums. She heard them in her sleep and, knowing exactly what they meant, made a point to get up. A full moon hung high in the sky, the air was warm, and a crisp breeze ruffled her hair - it was a _perfect_ Narnian night. Narnia's Valiant Queen smiled and started to make her way toward the source of the music, but a groan made her spin around. The lump of cloth that was Merlin stirred and a pale face emerged from the heap.  
"Wasgoinon?" he mumbled, clearly caught by surprise. He was still mostly-asleep as he looked around the clearing, but when he saw Lucy standing almost directly over him he jumped and made some sort of sound in the back of his throat. Lucy giggled, just a little.  
"You hear it?" she asked, grinning, when his eyes finally came to rest on her. "Can you hear the music?" Merlin scrunched up his face, concentrating.  
"Yeah... what is it?"  
"Would you like to see?" she asked. She held her hand out, an open invitation. Blearily, Merlin took it and allowed her to help him to his feet. Lucy led him into the woods, following the sounds of the wild tune.

Slowly her companion began to wake up more fully. As they made their way deeper into the forest, she could see him fidgeting in her periphery. He would look one way then whip his head around to peer in the opposite direction. Lucy kept his hand in her own, knowing that if she let go he would likely run into a tree or worse.  
"Where are you taking me?" he asked eventually. Lucy frowned; why did he sound so nervous?  
"Not positive," she responded lightly, "though I have a hunch."  
"You don't know where you're going?"  
"I told you, I have a hunch. And I think I'm right."  
"So... do you know what we are walking into?"  
"It is a Lawn Dance - one of the most wonderful things about Narnia."  
"What's a Lawn Dance?"  
"That's..." Lucy paused, searching for the right words. "It's rather impossible to explain. You just have to experience it for yourself." The sound had been growing steadily louder, and now they could hear more than drum-beats. The music was clear now, a wild, Narnian kind of music which reminded Lucy of a tune she heard during her first visit to Narnia. To her it was one of the best feelings in the world, but she could feel Merlin tensing up beside her.  
When finally they reached the edge of the clearing, Lucy whirled and pulled Merlin around in front of her, so that he was facing away from the Lawn. She put her hands on his shoulders - she had to stand on the tips of her toes to do so, which did diminish the effect a bit - and met his eyes.  
"Look, this... what you are about to walk into... it's going to be unlike anything you've ever experienced. I honestly believe you will love it, but... it'll be strange to you. The strangest thing you've ever seen."

* * *

_"And the tune he played made Lucy want to cry and laugh and dance and go to sleep all at the same time." - C.S. Lewis, _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

* * *

Merlin could hear the music, and it filled him with a strange sense of _freedom_. Every part of his being wanted to break away from Queen Lucy and run into the clearing behind him. He'd never felt this way before and it made him anxious. What if he was being enchanted? His magic didn't seem to work by the same rules in Narnia; who was to say that his defensive spells would work? And the look Queen Lucy was giving him - sincere and concerned and... _nervous_? What had she to be nervous about?  
The warlock acknowledged the queen's warning, though he was now more curious than ever. She let go of his shoulders, and once more took his hand. Hers was cool and dry, just as it had been when he awoke, and it helped to calm his still-racing heart. With one last glance over her shoulder, Lucy took a deep breath and led him into the clearing. She had been right - whatever he'd been expecting... _this _was about the farthest possible thing from it.

Merlin had certainly felt his share of surprise since entering Narnia - had it only been that morning? - between learning he had crossed the border, to being tended by a _queen_, to Arthur's recent acceptance of their hosts' hospitality. He had honestly thought that nothing more could shock him on this trip.  
He couldn't have been more wrong.

The sight that met him was one he _never_ could have dreampt up, not in a million years. In fact, that was the only thing keeping from dismissing this whole scene as a hallucination. Because there was _no_ way the sight before him was real.  
The Lawn was really an enormous clearing. The moon hung directly above it, illuminating the area perfectly. From Merlin's standpoint, it appeared that the trees formed a perfect ring around the sward. This was most definitely the source of the music - Merlin could distinctly hear it now, though he could see neither instruments nor players.  
The clearing itself wa full of the most outlandish people Merlin had ever seen. Even the most normal among them seemed alien - there were girls who looked like their visitor from earlier in the day. These came in all shapes and sizes; some were short, some tall - but all were slender. They spun and jumped and whooped in time to the music, dancing with each other or alone. There was something about their faces which reminded Merlin of the Druids, back in Camelot. Something wild, something which made him think that these people spent very little time around big civilizations. All were beautiful, though it was certainly a strange kind of beauty.  
The strangest creatures, though, were by far the men. They were all short - perhaps a little taller than the Dwarf who had accomanied King Edmund that morning. They moved with more grace than anyone he'd ever seen. From the waist up, they appeared to be nothing more than men - small, slim men with dark curly hair. Some of them had little things sticking out of their hair, but Merlin hardly noticed this. Aye, for the most part the might pass for beautiful men - from the waist up. But upon more careful inspection (which was quite difficult to get, because none of them stayed still for very long), it became obvious that these creatures' legs were _covered_ in black fur. If that had been all, Merlin might have assumed they were all simply wearing black animal-skin pants. And Merlin might have allowed himself to continue thinking that - for his sanity's sake, if nothing else - but one of the creaturs had broken away from the writhing congregation and was coming toward them. Merlin squinted. His legs looked like -  
"Mr. Tumnus!" The warlock's inspection was interrupted by the queen's squeal of delight. "I didn't know you had left Paravel!"  
"I left shortly after you did," the creature said, bowing. "It was not planned. I did not expect to see _you_ here, Majesty - but who is your friend? You did not leave the castle with him."  
"No, this is Merlin, from Camelot. Edmund found him and his friends on the way back. Merlin, this is Mr. Tumnus the Faun. He is my oldest and dearest friend." The queen's concern seemed to have totally evaporated in the presence of the Faun.  
"Pleasure, pleasure," Tumnus said. "Have you two come to join us?" He was still eyeing Merlin, though he spoke to both of the newcomers.  
"We heard the music," Queen Lucy explained. "I asked Merlin if he wanted ot come, and he said yes!"  
"Very good! Well, come along, then. Jump in!" With one last glance in Merlin's direction, the Faun turned and fairly skipped back to the dance. Lucy made to do follow him, but Merlin hesitated. The queen turned to look at him.  
"Aren't you going to dance?" she asked.  
"I don't know hte steps," the warlock confessed, eyeing the complicated movements of the crowd.  
"Neither does anyone else!" Lucy laughed. "You just join in, and follow the crowd. Or not. Come on, you'll see what I mean." She pulled her guest into the fray. The two were separated immediately, each pulled in a different direction. Once in the crowd, Merlin realized that the dancers had formed several rings - some inside the others and some overlapping. Queen Lucy had been right; once he was part of a ring, his body fell immediately into step with the rest of the crowd. The dancers in his circle had all linked arms and were moving alaternately clockwise and counterclockwise. Merlin noticed that while everyone was dancing to the same music, no one seemed to be able to agree on what the steps were. The result was a rather chaotic but extremely entertaining kind of target-shape, intertwining with other equally strange circles and ovals and all other shapes imaginable.  
Later, Merlin could only remember that night in flashes, and he was never sure what had been real and what had been a dream - it seemed as though the rules of the waking world were forgotten during the woodland romp. For instance, when asked about his partners, Merlin would often get a strange look across his face and say that he danced with a woman made of water, and that when he tried to touch her, his hand went straight through her torso. He would also swear that another woman turned into a bush every time he made to take her hand. He never was able to sort out what had actually happened that night, but every sporadic memory he had was among the best of his life.  
The only thing he was ever able to recall in detail was the last dance, where he found himself face to face with Lucy.  
"How are you enjoying yourself?" she asked, making sure to be heard over the din.  
"I can honestly say that this is more fun than I have had in a _long_ time," he replied.  
"Good! I had hoped that would be the case. Some people find it too disconcerting - dancing with my subjects. But the nymphs seem to have taken a liking to you. And several Dryads have asked me about you, as well. Apparently you've got some special qualities, because the tree spirits almost _never_ ask about Human affairs." Merlin immediately thought of his magic, and wondered if Emrys was as well-known in Narnia as he was in Camelot. It wouldn't have surprised him.  
"Are all of your subjects like this?" he asked, referring to the inhuman creatures surrounding the pair.  
"Many. Dryads and nymphs are certainly the most populous. But there are Dwarfs, Fauns, Talking Beasts, Centaurs - the list goes on and on."  
"Talking Beasts?"  
"Mm. I forget most people aren't as accustomed to the... diversity of the Narnian population as we are. But yes, there are all kinds of Talking Beasts."  
"Are all of the animals here Talking Beasts?"  
"No, of course not. There are plenty of Dumb Beasts, as well." Merlin made a note of that, and decided that Arthur would _not_ be hunting in Narnia any time in the near future.  
"We should probably be heading back soon," he said, looking at the sky. "They'll be worried."  
"Yes," the queen agreed with a sigh, "the sooner we can get on the road, the better." The two pushed their way out of the crowd and into the forest. Merlin felt much more confident in Lucy's navagating skills than he had earlier in the night, and very soon they were coming up on the clearing where the others had camped.

* * *

Arthur stirred, trying to sheild himself from the blinding light.  
"_Mer_lin, close the curtains," he grumbled. There was no response. "_Merlin_!" The Prince rolled over, making to sit up. When he opened his eyes, he had to pause for a moment to regain his bearings - right, he wasn't in Camelot. He was in Narnia. And he was completely at the mercy of two monarchs who may or may not have ulterior motives for offering to help him. And he was currently considered an invalid - a fact which, honestly, hurt his pride more than the actual wound at this point.  
Where _was_ that lazy servant? Arthur allowed his eyes to travel around the yard, but could find no trace of him. The prince was painfully aware of the manservant's strange ability to attract every manner of trouble in a ten-mile radius, and he _didn't_ like the idea of Merlin having wondered off. Not here, in this strange land.  
He noticed that Queen Lucy was missing as well, though her brother did not seem overly worried. Arthur didn't understand it; he had been _frantic_ when Morgana disappeared, and the queen was probably even _less_ equipped to defend herself than his foster-sister had been.  
"Where is Queen Lucy?" he asked, catching the eye of the king.  
"She likely went into the forest," Edmund replied nonchalantly. "She does that. I think there was a Lawn Dance last night; if there be a Dance or a Romp of any sort within a mile, Lucy is certain to be there. She probably dragged your friend with her, if that is your concern."  
"When will they be back?"  
"Right now." Arthur and King Edmund turned to see the two people in question emerge from the rest, arm-in-arm. "Sorry if we scared you." It was Queen Lucy speaking. Merlin looked a bit dazed - Arthur might have found it comical if he wasn't so relieved. Even still, he scowled.  
"It looks like everyone is waking up," Queen Lucy said, "So as soon as we get breakfast, we can be off!"  
"There is still plenty of food left from what Nevarra sent," Edmund said. "It should be enough to last through lunch, and I am planning on being home in time for dinner." Lucy smiled.  
"Excellent. And Nikentril told me we could use his wagon for as long as we needed, so we'll be able to get everyone _and_ your precious books."

Through their dialogue, Merlin had made his way over to Arthur's pallet. "What have you heard about Narnia's inhabitants?" he asked quietly. Arthur frowned.  
"Myth - folk tales. Creatures that are half-man, half-beast. Creatures that come in and out of trees. Things like that. Why?"  
"Because," Merlin breathed, eyeing Queen Lucy and King Edmund, "they aren't just myths. Last night, Queen Lucy took me to a gathering of Narnians. Everything the stories say seems to be true. The creatures here - they aren't _human_. Queen Lucy said that Humans have only been in Narnia for a few years. Most of the citizens are what _we_ would call myth. Tree spirits, water spirits - even Talking Beasts." Arthur grew more and more solemn with each word.  
"You say you've _seen_ these creatures?" Arthur asked.  
"I've _danced_ with many of them. That's where we were." Arthur nodded, but remained silent. "Are you... Are you sure you want to stay with these people?" Arthur couldn't place Merlin's attitude - he was definitely cautious, but not as suspicious as he normally would have been.  
"Queen Lucy was right; I won't survive a ride back to Camelot. I need rest." Arthur paused, thinking. "These Narnians - did they seem hostile? Did you get anything which suggeted that we might not be welcome here?"  
"No, it was the exact opposite. They were perfectly happy to learn that I was travelling with the Prince of Camelot. It might have been only because I accompanied their queen, but I doubt it. I get the feeling that these people aren't as deceptive as... some people." He caught his manservant's slip-up, and guessed that Merlin had meant to say something along the lines of, "most of the court at Camelot."  
"Mm." Though the prince would _never_ admit it, Merlin _had_ proven an excellent judge of character. If he trusted someone, Arthur had learned to at least give the person the benefit of the doubt. So he felt no shame in asking, "Do you think it is unsafe for us to be here?"  
Merlin took some time before answering. "I doubt they bear us any ill will, if that's what you're asking. But these people are... wild, Sire. Not really uncivillized... but somehow I get the feeling that the rules are different here. They aren't evil. Not at all. Still, I'm not sure I'd feel... _entirely_ safe if some of them went unchecked. And I wouldn't have wanted to be there without Queen Lucy. It's like... they are all drunk. No intentional harm, but I would... exercise caution."  
Merlin's brow was furrowed, as if he were still debating whether he'd said the right things. "Well," Arthur said, "if there is no direct threat to me or my men, then I see no other option for us. We can't go back to Camelot - not yet, not until I can ride - and Queen Lucy _has_ suggested we make this a diplomatic visit. I think the best option for us is to stay here; we will have to stay vigilant, though." Arthur watched Merlin's reaction. He looked neither relieved nor disappointed nor fearful, so Arthur guessed that he felt confident in his liege's decision. The knowledge encouraged Arthur - again he'd _never_ admit it to _anyone_ - but he valued Merlins' opinion above most, because he knew that Merlin was unconditionally loyal to Arthur. And that was a rare thing, to find someone who cared nothing for his crown, but rather for him as a person.  
But there was _no way_ he was telling Merlin that.

* * *

**A/N: One last thing - this story can be read alongside many of my other Narnia one-shots. Most of them take place outside of the time-frame I've set up for Once and Future, so unless it is otherwise noted, it is safe to assume that the events in my one-shots either have already taken place or will take place. **BUT you don't have to read the one-shots in order to read Once and Future. Not at all. Just thought I'd throw that out there. My intent was to lessen any confusion that might be out there, but this note may have been counterproductive. If so, then please accept the humblest apologies of a nervous scribe. If not, then accept my most enthusiastic congratulations for following whatever train of thought spurred this note on!**

**Once again, thank you all for your comments and favorites. Until next time, I remain humbly and eternally yours,**

**DCG**


	7. Chapter 7: A Narnian Welcome

**So sorry I'm late! I meant to get this up three days ago, but Real Life got in the way and tried its very hardest to keep me away. But here is the next chapter, and no ridiculously long author's notes this time, other than to once again thank my Beta, CaraLee934, for keeping me on track this week =D.**

_Once and Future Chapter 7: A Narnian Welcome  
In which a Rumor is confirmed, a King is introduced, and a Prince is acknowledged by a Centaur._

* * *

Once they had broken their fast, Queen Lucy hitched her little cart back up, and King Edmund did the same. Merlin had noted earlier that the horses weren't tethered to anything, and had wondered if they would walk away, but they stayed right where their lady left them. Merlin and Edmund helped Arthur into the back of Lucy's wagon. Sir Leon got in the back to keep an eye on him, and Sir Geraint rode with the king in his own cart. After the men had been settled, Lucy insisted that Edmund put some of his books in her cart so that his poor draft horse could catch a break. By the time they were done, the weight was evenly distributed, and they were off. Merlin sat up front with Lucy, who chatted openly about anything and everything. Merlin, in return, asked her about Narnia. They learned a good deal about each other - for instance, Merlin found that Lucy was one of the best storytellers he'd ever met, but she was horrible with anything that _wasn't_ related to Narnia. She seemed to know everything about every Narnian affair ever, but she was not nearly so well-versed in the current events of the bordering nations. Sometimes she would call a question ahead, and Edmund would answer in greater detail, and sometimes she would just tell Merlin to ask Edmund when they stopped. Merlin learned that Lucy was rather absentminded, at times, but that she could also set her mind to something and pursue it with single-minded determination. It was an interesting mix, but the warlock found it fit the queen so well that it wasn't as strange as he thought it could be.

Eventually, Lucy looked around and gasped. She called up to her brother, then brought her wagon alongside Edmund's.

"Edmund..." she seemed to be searching for words, throwing nervous glances up ahead. "This is the way -"

"I know," the king's face was blank.

"We don't have to -"

King Edmund cut his sister off. "We need to get to Paravel as soon as possible. And the fastest way is going directly past the Two Hills." His lips formed a line and he looked straight ahead.

Lucy tried again, "If you don't want to go through, I can go ahead and-"

"No." Edmund gazed firmly into his sister's eyes. "I know we have to pass through. I knew when we left. There's no danger, but you are _not_ going through that valley alone." The siblings seemed to have forgotten about their charges, but Merlin understood that this conversation, for whatever reason, was too important to interrupt.

"But are you sure-"

"Doesn't matter," Edmund cut her off yet again. "We need to hurry. We are losing daylight." He clicked, and his wagon pulled ahead once more. Lucy settled back in her seat, watching Edmund's back as if it could tell her what he was thinking.

"What are the Two Hills?" Merlin asked eventually. Lucy jumped - he'd been silent for a good hour now, and it was entirely plausible that the girl _had_ forgotten him. She looked around, and then pointed. Merlin followed her finger, and he saw them. They were really rather hard to miss - two tall mounds rising out of the earth, looking very impressive and none too friendly. The queen's face held a mixture of anger and... _fear_? The look made Merlin even more nervous. Queen Lucy hadn't struck Merlin as the kind of person that could get angry or frightened easily. What was so wrong about this place that inspired _both_ emotions at the same time? The warlock wasn't sure he wanted to know - so he refrained from asking, choosing to trust that Lucy wouldn't knowingly put her injured charges in any danger.

Eventually, the Two Hills were just ahead of them., and as soon as they rounded this last bend the valley would be visible. Lucy was tense, and kept her eyes trained on her brother. Merlin had to consciously restrain himself from leaning forward. What lay between those rocky mounds that had Queen Lucy so worried?

They rounded the corner and the sight made him catch his breath.

* * *

They were in front of an _enormous_ lake. It was larger even than the Lake of Avalon - he could just barely see the far shore. The water was quiet as the grave. Impressive as it was, though, the lake was not enough to hold the warlock's eye for long. There was a _castle_ rising out of the middle - up and up it went, towering above the travelers.

The castle looked to be made of some sort of white stone, which glinted in the sunlight. It looked like a ruin, sinister and foreboding and dark.

"What _is_ that?" Merlin asked, eyes wide.

"That," Lucy replied, "was the White Witch's house. Edmund! Are you alright?" King Edmund didn't answer. He had stopped his cart a little ahead of Lucy's, and was staring at the House. "Ed?"

"There's someone in there," the king said. "There is light in the windows." Lucy looked toward the towering ruin, searching for the light. Merlin saw it almost immediately - a blue glow coming from some of the upper stories.

"We'll send a scout when we get home," Lucy said warily. "Edmund? Come on, we have to keep going." The king said nothing. "Edmund!" He started, but didn't answer. He just snapped his reigns and on they went.

"Come on, then. I want scouts out here this time tomorrow." Lucy sighed, cast one last glance over the House, and followed her brother.

Once the Two Hills were out of sight - by this time it was about midday - Merlin gathered the courage to ask, "Who's the White Witch?"

"Hm? Oh. She's the one who made it always Winter in Narnia. For a hundred years, it was always Winter."

"I thought that was just a rumor." Edmund had mentioned that there was a hundred-year winter, but he hadn't elaborated. Merlin remembered the king telling him to ask Lucy about it. Now seemed as good a time as ever.

"I'm surprised there were even rumors," Lucy replied. "The Witch tried her hardest to keep Narnia isolated. She closed the border and penalized anyone who tried to cross it. Mr. Tumnus says she blocked off the mountains entirely."

"What happened to her?"

"Aslan killed her," Lucy said simply. Merlin remembered Lucy talking about Aslan, and how much Lucy seemed to admire him.

"And where is Aslan now? Does he live in Narnia?" he asked.

"Not sure. Some say he lives beyond the Eastern Ocean. At least, that's usually the direction he comes from, when he's in Narnia. Others say he just appears."

"So he isn't even here?"

"He could be," Lucy shrugged. "One can never really know with Aslan. You'll not see him unless he wants you to, and he comes and goes as he pleases."

"You speak fondly of him."

"Of course! He's the reason we're all here, in Narnia. The reason we're still a family. And he loves Narnia. He sacrificed everything to make sure his people would survive," Lucy spoke with such obvious love for this man - this King, Aslan. Merlin wanted to know more about him, and Lucy gladly sated his curiosity. They spoke for a long time, about Aslan and Narnia and Camelot and every other subject either could think of. The gravity of the Two Hills had long since been forgotten in favor of lighter topics. Even King Edmund threw in his opinion from time to time.  
When they stopped for lunch, Merlin (with Edmund's permission) retrieved one of the books, and settled into the back to keep an eye on Arthur while Sir Leon sat with the queen. The book was actually engaging - from what he could tell it was a written account of an oral story. Merlin had always enjoyed stories told by word of mouth, and this one did not disappoint. It appeared to be the story of Narnia's creation, but there was plenty that went above Merlin's head. He ploughed through the confusing allusions, though, too entranced to ask Lucy what they might mean.

* * *

Around five in the evening, Arthur woke. At that point, Sir Leon had taken the reigns, and Lucy was walking beside the cart so she could stretch her legs. Merlin wondered at her energy - it seemed boundless. She would run ahead and chat with her brother and Sir Geraint, then run back (the cart seemed to take too long to wait for it to catch up to her) to speak with Merlin or Leon or Arthur. All four of the travellers were in awe of their cheerful hostess, and listened intently to anything she had to say. Her brother just watched with an amused half-smile, which made Merlin think that this was a regular occurence with Queen Lucy.

At one point, Arthur questioned the lack of traffic on the road.

"Oh, most Narnians just use the woods," Lucy explained. "The only reason we are on the Road is that we have carts. We'll see more people as we get closer to Paravel. When all the roads come together, we'll see merchants - Dwarfs, mostly. They are usually the last to get in, whenever we have things imported. But don't worry; you'll have seen your fair share of Narnians before we reach the castle. Besides, as beautiful as Narnia is during the day, it is thriving at night. Just wait."  
Sure enough, around sunset just when everyone was starting to get bored and stiff, Lucy's prediction came true. There was a cart full of little Dwarfs with red hair, all whistling merrily, pulling up in front of them.

"Duffle!" Lucy called. All three Dwarfs turned. The one in front was the same Dwarf which had been with King Edmund the day before.

"Good evening, your Majesties!" the Dwarf waved merrily. "Still got your little band of tresspassers?" Merlin heard Arthur sputter at the term, but it wasn't said derogatively. In fact, the warlock wondered if it wasn't a term of endearment.

"Aye. I had hoped you made it home safely. Though I can't see how you would have made it home at all; if your brothers were coming here anyway, why did you not stay with Edmund?"

"Didn't know they were planning on coming, your Grace. Met on the Road."

"Downright surprised us, he did!" said one of the others. "_We_ thought he was going back to Cair Paravel. Hoped to surprise him." Lucy laughed with the brothers. Merlin thought that Duffle seemed merrier now than he had at their first meeting, but he hadn't been paying much attention then, so he wasn't sure.

King Edmund beckoned for the Dwarfs to go ahead of him.

Their next meeting was, in Merlin's opinion, the most interesting of them all. At first glance, watching the creature come down the road, Merlin thought it was a man riding an enormous horse - but as the wagons slowed and it approached, he realized that the man _was_ the horse! He jumped back, jostling the stack of books behind him, and Arthur somehow managed to rise to his knees, despite his wound, hand on the hilt of his dagger.

The _thing_ stopped in between King Edmund's cart and their own before stomping its fore-hoof.

"Good evening, Oreius," Lucy said, just as cheerful as ever. She stood tall in the back of the wagon, yet still had to look up to see the creature.

"Hail, Majesties," Oreius said, bowing deep at the waist, right where man and horse met. Lucy curtsied and Edmund bowed. Merlin watched the exchange, understanding that the situation was much more solemn than any they had come across. This creature, whatever it was, was obviously a noble one, enough so that even Lucy was still. After a long moment of the man-horse thing gazing at the king and queen, Oreius turned his attention to Arthur and bowed. "Hail Arthur, Crown Prince of Camelot." Arthur, who had been given a small window to recover whatever regality he had left, recognized the gesture and returned it. Then the creature's eyes traveled to Merlin. Merlin sat as one petrified, caught by the intensity of Oreius' watch. Nothing was said, but Merlin got the feeling that Oreius knew _exactly_ who he was, as well as his destiny.

Finally, Oreius released the warlock with a subtle nod, directed at the entire company, before continuing on the way they had just come. Merlin could _feel_ the air lighten as the creature passed.

"What _was_ that?" he asked as the wagon began moving again.

"Oreius, the Commanding General of the Narnian Army," Lucy said proudly. Then, after recieving a confused and slightly frustrated glance from the warlock, she ammended, "Oh. He is a Centaur. Don't feel bad if he didn't pay you much attention. Centaurs can be a little... choosy about who they acknowledge. Honestly, Arthur, I'm surprised he spoke to _you_. The last royal who visited couldn't get the time of day from him."

"The last royal who visited ended up starting a war," Edmund inserted. "If I had been given the choice, I would not have given him the time of day, either."

"Even still, it is truly an honor that Oreius spoke to you without any kind of encouragement." Arthur was only vaguely listening. Apparently he was still in shock from having a _Centaur_ address him, period. If the situation had been any different, Merlin would be laughing his head off. As it stood, though, he too was still reeling.

* * *

Soon after the Centaur was gone, Merlin became aware of a sound he'd heard only a few times in his life - and never in this magnitude. It started out as white noise he barely even noticed, but now it was unmistakable; it was the sound of waves crashing on the sand. It was slow and methodic, and he could easily see it becoming like a lullaby. Lucy, who had climbed in the back to dangle her legs off of the tailgate, was smiling contendedly, rocking in time to the waves.

"What is that?" Arthur asked suddenly, alarmed. Merlin frowned; was he talking about the waves? No - wait... now that he was listening harder, he was beginning to make out another sound. This was much different. It was soft and haunting and beautiful and pure. It was music, just as wild as the tune he'd danced to the night before, but nowhere near as... lively. No, this was smooth, and full of joy and hope and longing. It blended with the waves so that, if he weren't paying attention, it would be easy to miss - but now that he noticed it, he knew that he would never forget that sound, for as long as he lived.

"It's the mermaids," Lucy answered softly, turning to face her guests. "They sing every night, around the citadel. It means we are close." At that exact moment, the travelers rounded the last bend, and there was nothing blocking their first look at Paravel.

Camelot, Merlin knew, was built on the foundations of magic. Such was evident in the architecture and the way the citadel held up even during an earthquake, and it lacked for nothing aesthetically. But Cair Paravel was, without a doubt, the most breathtaking thing he'd ever seen. The Narnian capitol sprawled along the coast, up the cliff. There were patches of green between roofs of lapis, which gleamed even in the orange light of the setting sun. The highest point was a great blue dome with a single spire glinting in the fading light. With the ocean meeting the sky behind it, and waving treetops in front, the capitol of Narnia was more than a sight to behold. Merlin imagined it would be even more breathtaking during the day, when the sun was at its zenith.

He was suddenly struck with a raw kind of envy for the kings and queens who ruled over Narnia. To come home to _this_, every day, had to be nothing short of a dream. Suddenly, the music he had heard seemed perfectly normal. It fit this place, as if Cair Paravel were built with the song of a mermaid in mind. He supposed that it very well could have been; both the castle and the music seemed ancient and ethereal, as if brought to this world by something far more powerful than anything in it.

Merlin knew there had to be some kind of magic here. The very air thrummed with it, so much more so than anything he had felt in the forest. He could almost _see_ the music making its way over the Cair, surrounding it with a wall of light and energy and beauty.

A glance back told him that Arthur was suspecting the same thing, and Merlin could see the prince was obviously disturbed.

"Why do they sing?" he asked warily.

"Have you never heard of the Merfolk, Prince Arthur?" Lucy asked, just as entranced as the rest of them. "Their songs have value. When a Mermaid sings, she holds the power of a wave. When a group of them join together, the very Tides themselves calm to listen. Paravel would be an island without their vigilance. They keep hurricanes from making their way up the Coast; they guard us from attacks and warn us from anything they cannot stop. Many wars have been won before they were started because of the Mermaids' song." Merlin had never heard such stories - but then he'd never been given reason to. King Uther had banned tales like that - anything that even remotely appeared magical was forbidden, and Gaius only ever told him what he needed to know during that moment to keep Camelot safe. The topic of Mermaids was a completely foreign one to the warlock. In fact, most of what he had seen in Narnia was new territory - like Fauns and Centaurs. The few things he _had_ heard of were vastly different from what he had imagined, like Talking Beasts. By now he had seen a few, and they were about as dissimilar to Dumb Beasts as he was to Arthur.

"Who goes there?" Merlin looked up and realized they were right at the gates to the city.

"Open in the name of Aslan!" Edmund called.

"King Edmund and Queen Lucy have returned!" another voice rang out. The gates immediately began to open, and from somewhere above them a horn sounded, clean and clear. Lucy grinned and crawled up to the front of the cart, so that she could see the path ahead of her.

"The horses know their way from here," she told Sir Leon. "If we get separated, just give Dinna her head. She'll get us back." The knight nodded, but kept a firm grip on the mare anyway. Lucy waved to her people, looking more like a girl greeting family than a queen greeting subjects. There was no regality here, just pure joy. Merlin had noticed this about Lucy; she wasn't some distant ruler, holed up in her castle, with no care for her people's needs. She was obviously beloved among the ones she ruled, and it was the kind of love that only came from personally knowing her subjects.

Merlin noticed a slightly different kind of dynamic between the Narnians and King Edmund. There was a bit more reverence - and Merlin understood it, in some part. The king's personality was a little less jovial than Lucy's. He was still cheerful, but Lucy was more... _enthusiastic_ about it. It was easy to see her as more approachable. Still, he was obviously just as well-loved.

By the time they actually reached the castle, Merlin had given up on being shocked. It seemed that everywhere he turned there was a new creature to gape at. Some were obvious - there were more Talking Beasts than Lucy had led him to believe - and there were a few Centaurs as well. There were plenty of Fauns, most of them guards. They wore leather breastplates, though, instead of metal, something Merlin found odd. The warlock didn't notice many Dwarfs, but there were a few.

Instead of getting more crowded as they neared the castle, the streets grew emptier. The houses were silent, apparently empty. Merlin wondered to whom they belonged.

"Paravel is the hub of Human activity in Narnia," Lucy explained. "Ambassadors and travelers stay in this city, because it is the only place from here to Archenland which can actually accommodate Human needs. The castle, though, wasn't built to house vast numbers of people. There are a few guest chambers, but for the most part it was built for the Royal Family and the caretakers. The apartments down here are for guests whose stay is indefinite, or for when large parties come at once." Merlin supposed this made sense, though looking up at the castle he wouldn't have guessed. It was certainly something that could put the Citadel at Camelot to shame... "How are you holding up, my Lord?" Lucy asked Arthur.

"Very well, thanks to you, Highness. You are a talented healer."

"All the same, try to avoid putting any more weight on that leg than necessary. We're almost at the end of the road, and you'll have to walk from here. If need be, I can find a chair for you." Merlin coughed; Arthur confined to a wheeled chair? _That_, he wanted to see.

"I think I can manage, my Lady," the prince said through gritted teeth. He shot a glare at Merlin that clearly said, _If you tell_ anyone _about this, you'll be sorry._ Merlin almost didn't care - he would give _anything_ to see Arthur bound to a chair for a few days. And he had a hunch that if anyone could get that to happen, it would be Queen Lucy.

"Make way for the Just King and the Valiant Queen! Make way for the Monarchs of Narnia!" Spirits were running high as the crier stood on the parapet leading up to the castle.

"Welcome to Cair Paravel," Lucy said as the last gate opened. "Home of the Four Thrones."


End file.
